


Stitch N Bitch

by Arionrhod, McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arionrhod/pseuds/Arionrhod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: Severus takes up an unusual form of physical therapy with a bit of anonymous help from an unexpected source.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010. Based on the following prompt from Fantasy Fest 2010 on the lupin-snape community: "Alt End for DH, no death. After Nagini's bite, S has lost much of the dexterity in his hands. A mediwitch suggests knitting for physical therapy, but S thinks it's rather stupid. When he starts getting anonymous donations of The Good Yarns (alpaca, merino, you know from who), he reconsiders."

When the healer suggested that Severus take up knitting as a form of physical therapy to help with the dexterity and flexibility in his hands, he thought it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard of.

But he tried it anyway. It was a step up from squeezing those damned rubber balls non-stop, at least, although imagining he was squeezing the life out of the blasted snake that had done this to him helped. The house-elf shadowing him on Minerva’s orders had stuffed a bezoar down his throat and used the methods that Severus, Albus, and Minerva had developed following the attack on Arthur Weasley to save Severus’ life, although it had been a near thing. He’d still ended up with permanent damage to his voice, scarring on his throat, and damage to his hands that kept him from his work. The healers had said physical therapy might help, and so he was following their instructions to the letter in hopes that he would reach the point of being able to chop, slice, and peel without the risk of losing a finger.

Which was why he made himself go to the local yarn shop, concocting an excuse about buying supplies for his mum should anyone ask why he was in there. No one did, not even when he stood frozen in the middle of the shop, staring at the shelves and bins stuffed with skeins in all colors and textures, seemingly endless pattern books, and an entire wall of needles and accessories. The array of choices was overwhelming, and he was tempted to turn around and march out rather than face having to decide on needles _and_ a pattern _and_ yarn from all that nonsense. Really, did one _need_ a sock blocker?

In the end, he spent almost an hour trying to decide whether to knit a scarf or a hat (a scarf), which yarn to use (acrylic in black, of course), and which beginner’s guide to knitting to buy. As soon as the young woman at the till rang up the sale, he snatched up his purchase furtively and fled from the little yarn shop of horrors.

His experiment with knitting ended shortly after it had begun. The acrylic yarn frayed more and more each time he had to frog the project because he’d somehow picked up a stitch or lost one or dropped one because the metal needles were slick, and the stitches slid right off.

He gave up and told the Healer so.

“You should try bamboo needles,” she suggested. “My gran swears by them. She won’t use anything else. I think the wood helps keep the yarn from slipping so much.”

Severus grunted noncommittally. The fraying yarn and metal needles were cheap - all he could afford, really. He’d seen the bamboo needles, but they were more costly than the metal ones, and he had to be thrifty until he found work.

Even if returning to teach at Hogwarts was an option, he wouldn’t take it; he loathed teaching, and he’d only done it for so long because he’d had to. He hoped to become an independent brewer, taking commissioned work and supplying apothecaries, but he wouldn’t be able to do that unless he regained as close to full mobility and dexterity in his hands as possible. Until then, he was living on the savings he’d accumulated over his years of teaching at Hogwarts, but it was hardly a fortune, not even a small one, and it wouldn’t last indefinitely.

“I don’t want to invest a great deal of money in an activity I don’t plan to continue,” he said, to keep from admitting he couldn’t really afford the expensive needles.

“No, you don’t look like the knitting type, I suppose,” she replied, smiling, and he gave her a quelling look.

After she had pronounced him to be progressing nicely if more slowly than he liked, he left the examining room, lost in thought about the possibility of adding an anti-slip charm to the damned needles and not really paying attention to where he was going as he headed for the exit. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he nearly bumped into someone who was standing in the corridor. 

“Hello, Severus,” a familiar voice said, and he found himself standing very close to Remus Lupin, who was cradling a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms with a ridiculous bag decorated with pink and blue dragons slung over one shoulder. Lupin was looking at him with an expression that seemed suspiciously innocent. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Severus scowled at being jolted out his reverie and by Lupin, of all people. “What are you doing here, Lupin? Did your spawn get a hairball?”

Lupin smiled as though Severus had made a funny joke, although there was a flash of something - surprise, and perhaps even sympathy - in Lupin’s eyes when he heard the rough, gravelly quality of Severus’ voice.

“No, just a normal checkup,” Lupin replied, giving a slight shrug. “Infants need them fairly often in the first year.” He paused, seeming to hesitate, and then he continued. “I hope you are recovering well? I read in the papers about the Ministry clearing you. I’m glad; I never could fully accept that you would have... done that without there being a good reason for it. I mean a reason that had nothing to do with you being the traitor they claimed you were.”

“Then you were the only one,” Severus retorted, folding his arms across his chest and regarding Lupin dubiously. “There are many who _still_ aren’t convinced. Fortunately, Minerva’s testimony along with posthumous corroboration from Albus was something the Wizengamot couldn’t ignore, no matter how much they might have wanted to.”

“The Wizengamot is hardly unbiased,” Lupin said, and a shadow crossed his blue eyes for a brief moment. He sighed. “Nor are they known for their logic. Anyone who knew anything about you, and Albus, and the Order would have realized that you could have destroyed us all at any time if you’d really wished to do so, Harry included. That’s why I couldn’t believe you were really a traitor. If you had been, I’d probably be dead, too.”

“It isn’t as if I didn’t have plenty of opportunities.” Severus gave a haughty sniff, still piqued that so many people, including some who had known him for years, were so willing to believe that he had betrayed Albus and the Order. “I could have poisoned your Wolfsbane easily enough. For that matter, I could have murdered the entire Order _and_ the staff of Hogwarts just by serving a ‘special’ tea.”

Lupin nodded and chuckled slightly. “My own thoughts exactly. You’d hardly kill only Albus and leave the rest of us alive when you could have prevented a war and insured victory for the other side so easily. Which shows just how little they know you, if they truly believed you’d ever be so inefficient at anything.”

As little as Severus ever thought he would find himself agreeing with Lupin, he couldn’t help but be a bit mollified, not only because Lupin wasn’t demonizing him, but also because Lupin was using the kind of logical thinking that so many others had not in regards to the situation.

“If I really had turned traitor, I would not have done so in such a public manner with witnesses or evidence,” he replied, lifting his chin proudly. “The entire situation confirms the fact that no one ever really listened to my introductory speech about the subtlety of my art.”

“They wanted a scapegoat, and you were handy,” Lupin responded, shaking his head. “But at least they _did_ acquit you, as much as it must have stuck in their craws. So I offer my congratulations and my thanks. The war would not have been won without you, and I, for one, realize that. Harry may have destroyed the Dark Lord, but he never would have lived to do so if you’d not been there protecting him - protecting all of us - for years, at the risk of your own life.”

At first, Severus was too taken aback to respond. The common attitude he had faced so far from everyone other than Minerva was grudging at best and suspicious at worst. Certainly no one had _thanked_ him; on the contrary, the general consensus seemed to be that _he_ ought to be grateful he wasn’t rotting in prison.

“You aren’t wrong about that,” he said at last, unable to voice the words ‘you’re right’ to Lupin, even in this context.

Somehow Lupin must have sensed that, because he suddenly laughed aloud, a deeply toned, uninhibited laugh that sounded surprisingly boyish. People turned in the corridor to look at him with disapproval, and Lupin reined himself in.

“I’m glad we agree,” he said. The child in his arms began to wriggle and fuss, apparently startled by his father’s laughter, and Remus lifted the baby to his shoulder and patted his back soothingly. “And I do hope your injuries are healing, Severus. You certainly deserve to finally live your life as you please after all these years.”

Severus was surprised again, too much so to wonder whether Lupin was laughing with him or at him, when Lupin spoke again. It was the first time he could remember anyone saying he deserved something _good_ , and he wasn’t certain how to respond. The only thing he did know was that he didn’t care to reveal the extent of his injuries or how long it would take him to recover fully - if he _could_ recover - out of a life-long habit of self-protectiveness.

“I’m fine,” he said brusquely.

“I’m sure,” Lupin replied easily, his expression bland. The baby continued to wriggle, then a wail of unhappiness burst from him, surprisingly loud from such a tiny creature. Lupin immediately lowered the baby, peering down into the folds of the blanket and stroking the child’s flushed cheeks with a finger. “Shhh... it’s all right. Daddy will stop talking now and get you into bed for your nap.” He glanced up at Severus. “Well, it was nice running into you, Severus, but I need to take this little fellow home.”

Under the circumstances, a sharp remark about caterwauling seemed too churlish even by Severus’ standards; no doubt Lupin wouldn’t be surprised if Severus was cutting, even nasty, but Severus wasn’t inclined to be either cutting or nasty when Lupin had proved to be sensible about the matter of Severus’ role in the war.

“I should be going as well,” he said, and then he turned and marched away, not lingering for any further social niceties. He may have held his tongue about the wailing, but that didn’t mean he had to stoop to being _pleasant_.


	2. Chapter 2

The attic was hot and stuffy, and Remus directed his wand at the small windows on either end, opening them so that a slight breeze could waft through the enclosed space. He hadn’t come up here in years, and he grimaced at the amount of dust which suddenly wafted into the air, the motes dancing in the slanting sunbeams. 

Teddy was downstairs, sleeping peacefully, and Remus had no doubt he’d hear his son when he woke and wanted attention. Sensitive hearing was a benefit of his lycanthropy; one of the few, but it was useful in situations where he needed to get some things done while Teddy slept.

Another few swishes and flicks managed to get rid of most of the dust, which improved things considerably, making it possible for him to actually see the myriad crates scattered across the floor. He wasn’t even certain what many of them contained, not anymore; after his parents died, he’d had to sell most of the valuables to bury them and then to live off of during the lean years after the first war. The rest were personal items and souvenirs, trinkets and such that he couldn’t bear to let go. But he wasn’t up here looking for things to sell this time. Today, he had a specific purpose in mind, and he moved through the various boxes until at last he spotted the one he sought.

It wasn’t the usual sort of box, but one made of finely grained mahogany that gleamed in the low light. It was about two feet long by a single foot wide, and eighteen inches tall, not counting the handle which carved over it. The top was separated into two parts, with nobs to lift them. Even more unusual, the top seemed to consist of layers, which were connected on the outside by strips of wood attached to the sides. He looked at it, smiling fondly in memory.

For years, the box had sat next to his mother’s chair in the parlor, a fixture of his childhood. It held the materials and implements which she’d used to fashion wonders: cozy soft blankets and bright jumpers, delicate lacy shawls and marvelous caps which kept his ears warm even during the coldest winters. His mother had been a clever witch, but unlike Molly Weasley, who used a charm to enchant her needles to turn out the plethora of jumpers she handed out the way Albus had bestowed Sherbet Lemons, she had preferred to hold the knitting needles in her own hands, using clever, delicate movements to turn the long skeins of yarn into a fascinating array of things. To Remus, it had seemed a form of magic all its own.

He knelt beside the box, grasping the handles and opening the lid. It moved upward, then expanded outward, the layers of the lid becoming receptacles which held an variety of items of the knitters craft. There were needles in all shapes and sizes, some long, some short, thin and fat, some with knobs on one end and others pointed at both. There were even needles which were joined by a flexible cable, making one long needle that could be touched end to end, allowing the user to knit things around and around without ever turning. Another layer held rings, some whole and some opened, which he remembered his mother calling ‘markers’, that she’d placed among the stitches to indicate where she should do certain things in the pattern.

There were patterns, too, a great many of them in another layer, which was far bigger on the inside than the outside, all neatly stored with little file markers labeled in his Mum’s hand. There were other miscellaneous things, some of which he couldn’t fathom the use of, but the best part of all was in the bottom of the box, which again was much, much bigger than it appeared. There, in the bottom, was skein upon skein of yarn, all different colors and thicknesses, some of wool and others of silk and blends of things even more exotic. Some of them represented projects his mother had planned, while others had been her ‘stash’, as she called it - a collection of beautiful fibers that she loved to look at and touch, keeping them for ‘something special’ she intended to make, once she found the perfect pattern.

Remus pulled out a skein on the top, holding it up in the light and noting that it gleamed richly. It was green, a dark green that was very close to that of Slytherin house. He ran fingers over it, feel how exquisitely soft it was, yet resilient, too. He could see it made up into a scarf, something that could be draped around the throat to cut the chill of the most bitter wind. It was absolutely perfect for what he intended to do.

He looked through the patterns, rejecting one after another until he found one that he thought would work, and then he selected the proper needles for it: straight ones made of finely grained wood that almost resembled slender wands. Then he sat back on his heels, looking at his selections, imagining his mother’s hands moving, the scarf taking shape in her skilled hands. It would have been so easy for her, but she’d been gone for a long time, and her beloved possessions had sat in their box, waiting, for all these years. Waiting for someone to work magic with needles and bring the yarn to life.

His acute hearing had allowed him to overhear exactly what the Healer had told Severus in St. Mungo’s that morning. It must be frustrating for a man like Severus to have his body let him down, to have tasks which were one so easy rendered impossible by the injuries he’d sustained. But Remus knew the healer was right; if anything could help Severus regain lost dexterity, knitting would do it. It might take some time, but the repetitive motions would work his muscles, helping his motor control and helping Severus regain what he’d lost. Helping Severus in the way that Severus had helped Remus when he’d made the Wolfsbane potion.

It was a small thing to do, he told himself. A small repayment for Severus’ efforts in the war, for his brewing of the potion, for... well, everything. He owed Severus a debt, and this was something he could offer that might help. Of course, he couldn’t tell Severus whom it was from, or no doubt Severus would toss it all in the bin without a single thought. But Remus wasn’t looking for gratitude or even acknowledgement of his gift. He wanted to do it because he owed Severus. Because Severus needed it.

Because, he thought, his mum would have liked to know that someone else would use her things and perhaps get the same joy she’d gotten from them. And because it was simply the right thing to do.


	3. Chapter 3

When the morning owl post arrive and brought him something other than merely the _Daily Prophet_ , Severus was initially bewildered. He hadn’t ordered anything, and he couldn’t imagine who would send him a package. The fact that it was unmarked aside from his name and address written in a hand he didn’t recognize made confusion turn to suspicion, and he cast every diagnostic charm he could think of to make certain the parcel wasn’t booby-trapped.

When he was satisfied that the package itself was not charmed or cursed and that the contents - whatever they were - were not harmful, he found himself back at confusion. The mystery was not solved, however, when he opened the box and found it contained knitting supplies, of all things. No one knew about the aftereffects of his injuries, not even Minerva. She had visited him during his stay at St. Mungo’s following the battle, but she had enough on her hands with repairing the school, and her visits had dwindled to the occasional note once he assured her that he was fine and required no assistance. The last thing he wanted or needed was her hovering and tutting over his rehabilitation like some tartan-clad guardian angel; he had always managed on his own, and he intended to continue doing so.

Which made the parcel’s contents all the more mystifying. He could have seen Minerva doing something like this, but the only person who knew about his hands and about the form of therapy he’d been given was the Healer, and he didn’t think her dedication to the job extended to sending knitting supplies to her patients.

He picked up the needles, which were made of wood; they were light, and they quickly warmed in his hand. The wood was smooth with no hint of any rough spots where the yarn might catch, and holding the needles felt oddly familiar and somehow more right, perhaps because these needles reminded him of his own wand. They were larger than the metal needles he had bought - 6.00mm instead of 5.00mm - and he thought the size might be easier for his recalcitrant hands to work with at first.

There was also yarn, but it wasn’t acrylic. The label said it was a blend of wool and silk, which he knew was far more expensive than the yarn he’d bought, but it was also a great deal nicer; it was far softer, and the deep green color was somehow richer, perhaps because it had a glossy sheen that the dull acrylic did not. _This_ yarn wouldn’t fray so easily. He found a pattern at the bottom as well for something called 2x2 ribbing, which sounded more interesting than the straight knitted pattern he’d intended to use. Garter stitch, he thought it was called. This one called for him to knit _and_ purl, which sounded quite impressive and challenging, and it even had basic instructions for beginners at the bottom.

For a moment, he wondered if he ought to box everything up and return it to the sender, whoever it was. He didn’t like the thought of being indebted to anyone or being seen as a charity case, but...

He reached out and stroked a skein of the dark green yarn, and he could _feel_ the way the silk softened the wool, making it less coarse and itchy, turning it into a yarn that would feel luxurious against the skin and yet be warm and hardy against the winter wind. For all that he gave the appearance of an ascetic, he was actually quite tactile - at least when it came to inanimate objects. He could identify potion ingredients by touch after decades of practice and handling, and he took pleasure in the slide of smooth glass jars and bottles beneath his fingertips, in the varying textures of his ingredients, in the familiar weight of his paring knife in his hand.

He tightened his fingers around the skein, struck by a sudden - and rare - flash of insight. He had a workroom full of equipment - ten different cauldrons of various sizes, knives, ladles, measuring tools, mortars, pestles, and the like - but his _main_ tools were his hands. They did more work and provided more information than he’d ever realized. He could tell whether a shrivel fig was fresh or not just by weighing it in his palm, and he had perfected his own method of gathering a “pinch” of this or that, his fingers unerringly doling out exactly the amount needed.

Pride be damned, he thought. It was more than just money and a job. It was his _life_. He needed his hands to work properly so he could feel whole again, not cut off from a means of gathering information that he’d scarcely realized he had, much less appreciated. He gazed down at his hands, determined never to take them for granted again, especially if this ridiculous knitting therapy actually worked and he regained full - or at least mostly full - use of them again.

His decision made, he unpacked the box and carried its contents over to his chair by the fireplace in his sitting room, and then he read over the pattern and its instructions carefully before removing the label from one skein and casting on at last.


	4. Chapter 4

A week passed more quickly than Severus expected it to. Time had been dragging somewhat since his release from St. Mungo’s, mainly because he had been denied his preferred activity - brewing - and had been forced to find other ways to occupy his time. Since things like “taking long walks” didn’t appeal to him, he had busied himself with re-reading his entire library instead, but even he didn’t enjoy spending all day every day with his nose in a book. He would much rather have had his nose in a cauldron instead.

But knitting his ribbed scarf had provided a new activity and a new challenge, one which he was determined to overcome. And it _had_ been a challenge. The stiffness in his fingers had made it difficult for him to manipulate the needles properly, especially when he had to switch from knitting to purling - and purling itself presented its own set of problems. He found it easy enough to insert the needle from below to knit, but inserting it from above to purl had coaxed many an obscenity from his lips as he attempted to master the technique. He fumbled often with the yarn as he carried it over, and he was not a quick knitter by any stretch of the imagination, but by tea time on the first day, he had completed a little over 4cm and had only frogged the work twice, once because he got off the pattern somehow and once because he had dropped a stitch and created a hole. That swatch of ribbing was tiny, especially considering he was facing the length of an entire scarf, but it was finished, it was unfrayed, and it looked like it was meant to. For Severus, it was nothing short of a complete victory.

On the Healer’s advice, he had bought a salve to rub on his hands, especially when they began to ache. It was far inferior to what he could have made for himself, but he couldn’t do that yet, so he was forced to make do with the apothecary’s product instead. Still, it worked, if not as effectively as his own would have done, and he kept a jar on hand for use after one of his knitting sessions.

Even after a week of practice, he was not much quicker than he had been, although he fancied he could tell some slight improvement in both the quality of his stitches and the flexibility of his fingers. It was still a laborious process, but he kept with it, knitting for several hours off and on throughout the day, and not just because it was supposedly therapeutic for his hands. As his scarf grew centimeter by centimeter, he began to take pride in it, feeling a surge of satisfaction every time he sat back and looked at it to see the added length. _I made this_ , he thought, _and from naught but a pair of sticks and some spun fiber, no less._

And so his days passed quietly but more quickly than they had, and he was beginning to have hope that the Healer had known what she was talking about after all.

It was nearly a week later that there came a knock on his door one afternoon, and he opened it to find none other than Remus Lupin standing on his doorstep. This time, there was no sign of his spawn, and Lupin smiled at him with what was obviously meant to be appeal. 

“Hello, Severus,” he said, standing with his hands behind his back, for all the world like a First Year expecting to be catechised. “I, um, hope you don’t mind me dropping by, but I wanted to discuss something with you. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“What in Merlin’s name could we possibly have to discuss?” Severus asked, too surprised to curb the bluntness of his response.

Lupin’s smile became a little sheepish, and he glanced from side to side at the people who scurried down the sidewalks, going about their business.

“It’s rather personal,” Lupin replied, his voice low. “Would you mind terribly if I came in, for just a moment, and I’ll tell you?”

Severus hadn’t been expecting company, but he was tidy and orderly by nature, so it wasn’t as if he had to worry about Lupin walking into a slobby mess, and so he nodded reluctantly and stood aside.

“Very well. Come in, but make it quick,” he said, trying to make it sound as if he had things of great importance to return to.

Lupin’s smile widened again, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you. I promise I won’t take much of your time,” he replied, as he followed Severus down the corridor and into the sitting room. Lupin glanced about casually, and it seemed his eyes lingered for the briefest of moments on the partially finished scarf. Then he faced Severus directly.

“I know you’re still recovering, but what I wanted to talk to you about was the Wolfsbane potion,” Lupin said. “I was wondering if, when you return to brewing, you would be willing to make the Wolfsbane for me. I can pay for it.” Lupin added the last words quickly, as though he were afraid Severus believed he was asking for charity.

Severus casually sidled over to his chair and tried to conceal his knitting with a pillow before Lupin could get a really good look, much less start asking questions about whether Severus’ brain had been affected by Nagini’s poison.

Then Lupin’s words sank in, and he felt something that he thought he recognized as hope. A paying customer for his work was exactly what he’d been hoping for, and while he hadn’t expected to include Lupin among his clientele, he had no intention of refusing paying work.

“Can you?” he asked sharply, looking Lupin up and down with a critical gaze. “I don’t intend to return to teaching, you know, so I don’t have time to work for free these days.”

“I understand, and yes, I can,” Lupin replied, drawing himself up with what seemed to be a tinge of pride. “Tonks left everything to me upon her death. I have my parents’ home, where Teddy and I live, so I have enough to get by and still purchase the potion until the Ministry gets itself sorted out and can see about repealing the laws restricting werewolf employment.”

Severus’ eyebrows climbed at that, but it was a pleasant surprise for once. He knew other brewers charged exorbitant prices for the Wolfsbane, not because of the ingredients - which were cheap - but because of the time and skill level required to make it. Given he had the skill and nothing but time on his hands, he didn’t see the point in over-pricing his efforts. All he wanted was enough money to live on comfortably... and perhaps to buy some more of that wool/silk blend yarn.

“I believe we can reach a mutually acceptable arrangement,” he said. “I cannot say when I will be able to brew the potion, but I am undergoing physical therapy,” he added, casting a furtive glance at his scarf.

“I can wait,” Lupin said, seeming quite pleased with Severus’ agreement. “I’d rather have you brew it than anyone else, because I trust your quality. And if you want to sell it to more people, I could provide some referrals.”

“Really?” Severus could scarcely believe his luck. He had never imagined he would have a built-in customer base before he even got started, much less a base consisting of guaranteed returning customers. “Well, as long as they can pay, I will provide it. It won’t be any more difficult to brew for multiple customers than it is to brew for one.”

The smile Lupin gave him was quite brilliant, as though Severus had given him some kind of treat by allowing a pack of werewolves to pay for the potion. “Thank you, Severus,” Lupin said warmly. “You have no idea how much that means to me. To all of us. If there is anything I can do to help you return to brewing more quickly, please let me know. I am more than willing to play errand boy or anything it might take to help speed your recovery along.”

A thought rose up in Severus’ mind, but he hesitated before voicing it, because it would mean spending more time with Lupin, who had never been one of this favorite people. Then again, he didn’t have favorite people to begin with, only people he found marginally more tolerable than most, and he supposed after the sensible things Lupin had said during their previous encounter, he could bump Lupin up to that category on a trial basis. Besides, it would mean setting up his fledgling business sooner rather than later and would perhaps ease his financial concerns.

“Well...” he began slowly. “The problem lies in my hands. I lack the flexibility and dexterity for tasks that require fine motor control. I can mix and stir in a limited fashion, but I cannot slice, peel, chop or anything of that nature. I may also have difficulty measuring out small amounts of ingredients. If you believe you could avoid making an utter hash on it, perhaps you could do the prep work. We could test the results on you alone this month to make certain I am capable of brewing it correctly despite my limitations, and if it works, we could include other werewolves next month.”

Lupin looked gobsmacked for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “I think that’s an excellent idea,” he said quickly. “If you can tell me when to be here, I can have Andromeda babysit Teddy. He’s not a very demanding baby, but I know that some things are time sensitive, so I’d not want him to set up a fuss right when you might need something.”

Severus nodded, satisfied by that arrangement. “When is the next full moon? I will need at least a week to prepare the potion before you must start taking it. Timing is indeed important with this one, and it is brewed in stages with lengthy simmering times. I won’t need you every day, of course,” he added quickly. “Only on the first three days, when I need freshly prepared ingredients. The rest of the time is spent letting it simmer and stirring and adding things at the proper time.”

“Full moon is in twenty days,” Lupin replied immediately. “So... six days from now? I can come over after feeding Teddy his breakfast and delivering him to his grandmother. Say... nine in the morning? Is that too late to get started?”

“No, that is satisfactory,” Severus replied. He wasn’t a morning person by nature, but he was accustomed to rising early after so many years at Hogwarts, and nine o’clock was a comparatively late start. “Don’t bother bringing your own knives if you have them. Mine are undoubtedly better. I will have everything you need ready, including the ingredients.”

“That sounds perfect.” Lupin smiled again. “Thank you, Severus. I really appreciate this, and I’ll do my absolute best for you. I know I wasn’t terribly good at potions, but I can chop and measure.” He hesitated, and then he held out his hand. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

Severus eyed Lupin’s hand like it was a coiled snake about to strike, surprised and disconcerted by the gesture. People tended not to touch him voluntarily; they never had, other than his mother. But he supposed Lupin was so overcome by gratitude that he was willing to touch the greasy git of Slytherin.

“See that I don’t,” he said, reaching out at last to clasp Lupin’s hand loosely. “If you prove inept, this project will have to wait until my manual dexterity returns.”

 _If it does_ , he thought, but he refused to admit the possibility that it would not.

Lupin took his hand in a warm, gentle grip, the pressure carefully light. “Understood,” he said easily. Then he released Severus’ hand with what almost seemed to be reluctance. “Well, I should be going. I promised I’d be quick, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

For some reason, Severus’ skin was tingling from the contact, but he ignored it and nodded instead. “I will see you in six days,” he said, already making a mental shopping list of the supplies he would need to begin brewing the Wolfsbane Potion.

“See you then,” Lupin replied. “Good bye, Severus, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else in the meantime.”

“I’m fine,” Severus replied, tilting his chin up proudly; the last thing he wanted was to be seen as weak or incapable of managing on his own. “I don’t need anything else.”

“All right.” Lupin smiled, seeming unfazed by Severus’ words. “I’ll just see myself out, then, so that you can get back to whatever you were doing.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the corridor, and Severus heard the front door open and close quietly behind him.

Severus waited a moment or two just to make certain Lupin really was gone before removing his knitting from behind the pillow. He wasn’t embarrassed about knitting... Well, perhaps he was, a little, given it was an activity commonly associated with little old ladies, and he had enough social stigmas stacked up against him without adding another. He didn’t want a lot of nosy questions about why he was doing it either; he was only doing it long enough to help his hands, and then he would stop, so no one needed to know about it anyway.

He went into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea before he picked up where he’d left off. With any luck, he might add another few centimeters before bedtime. Perhaps, he thought as he put the kettle on, he ought to start thinking about whether he wanted tassels or not, and he spent the next few minutes waging an inner debate on the subject without making a definitive decision either way.


	5. Chapter 5

Remus was so busy from the time he picked up Teddy from Andromeda after his errands that he didn’t have much time to think about his visit to Severus. But once Teddy had been fed and bathed and put in a sweet smelling set of footed pajamas and had a story he was far too young to appreciate read to him before bedtime, Remus settled back in his chair in the parlor and did just that.

He’d come up with his idea about the Wolfsbane after his last transformation, which had been painful and exhausting despite the Wolfsbane potion he’d been able to purchase. It had been much worse than when Severus had been supplying his potion, and Remus wondered if the wizard he’d managed to find to brew it for him had pushed the job off onto an apprentice or used substandard ingredients despite the princely sum Remus had paid him for it. Some potions masters apparently didn’t take the same pride in their work that Severus had always displayed, and that was when Remus decided that he really, really wanted Severus to brew the potion for him.

Of course, it also gave him a chance to satisfy his curiosity as to whether Severus had used the supplies Remus had sent for his knitting or had tossed them in the bin. It was quite gratifying to see the simple scarf lying out where Severus had obviously been working on it, and it seemed that he’d made quite a lot of progress, so much so that he’d probably finish it relatively soon. That was a good thing, since it meant Severus was getting the hang of it, but it also meant he’d need another project.

Remus turned to look down beside his chair. He’d brought down his Mum’s knitting box, deciding that it should returned to the place it had always occupied, since just looking at it made Remus feel warm as he remembered the love his Mum had always shown him. He certainly wasn’t obligated to send Severus another project, but he found that he wanted to do so. Severus had agreed to help him, after all, and really, the yarn would just be wasted sitting there in the box unused. It was better for him to send it to Severus and help him out in return.

And since he’d be seeing Severus on what he hoped would be a semi-regular basis, what with Severus’ surprising acceptance of his help, Remus would be able to see how Severus was doing with the knitting. After the sharp little tingle he’d felt when he took Severus’ hand, it had brought home how starved he was for a connection with someone. Oh, he had Teddy, but Teddy was still an infant. Andromeda was polite to him, but they had nothing in common except Teddy, and Andromeda knew quite well what a sham his marriage to Tonks had been. Albus was dead, Kingsley and Minerva were busy rebuilding the Ministry and Hogwarts, respectively, and Harry and the others had gone on with their lives. In many ways, Remus was almost as alone as he’d been after the disastrous night of Halloween 1981, and the truth was, he’d always had a sneaky liking for Severus. They had more in common than Severus might have been willing to admit, and Remus wouldn’t mind having Severus for a friend. He’d have to move slowly and carefully, as one would when approaching a wild animal, but he rather thought the results would be worth it.

He grinned as he opened the knitting box and began to leaf through the patterns, looking for exactly the right one.

* * *

Severus had assumed that the parcel he’d received with the needles, yarn, and scarf pattern would be the only such parcel he would receive, thus he was surprised anew to see another parcel - this one somewhat larger - arrive with his address written in the same handwriting. He hesitated, torn between sending it back because he didn’t want charity and ripping into it to see what was inside this time. He had worked diligently on his scarf, and it was now almost finished, long enough to wrap around his neck and ward off chills this winter - and he had decided to add tassels after all to soften the edges of the ribbing.

He rather liked the ribbing pattern; it was simple, but it produced an interesting effect with the stretchiness and ridges. He was growing a little bored with it by this point, however, and he didn’t fancy finishing one scarf and starting another exactly the same. He’d even given some thought to returning to the yarn shop for something new.

He soothed his pride by assuring himself that whoever had sent it must want him to keep knitting, and it would be churlish to refuse something that was meant to help with his physical therapy - and then he wasted no more time in opening the parcel.

Inside, he found a mound of yarn in jewel tones of various shades, and a single touch was enough to let him know this was a different type of yarn. He picked up a skein and examining it, finding that it was a merino wool in a heavier weight than that of his scarf. Further digging unearthed a set of needles unlike any he’d seen: two sharp wooden ends connected by a plastic cord. The pattern he found called for “circular needles”, and he supposed that was what they were. They were big, too: 9mm this time.

He found out why when he examined the pattern closely; it was a pattern for something called a stained glass afghan, which appeared to be made out of a series of colored squares outlined in black. _That_ certainly looked interesting, not to mention colorful, and somehow, his anonymous yarn benefactor had managed to choose colors that would complement the decor of his sitting room. The stitches were simple, and the bigger needles would be even easier for him to work with despite his limitations.

He packed everything back into the box and put it aside for the time being; he had a scarf to finish before he could begin the afghan, although having this new project awaiting him motivated him to finish even sooner. Another day or two ought to do it, and then he would figure out how to bind off and make the tassels, and he would spend a few minutes admiring his finished work - before diving headlong into an exciting new project.


	6. Chapter 6

On the day he was set to begin brewing the Wolfsbane Potion, Severus awoke with a blend of excitement and apprehension roiling in his stomach. He was eager to brew something - anything! - again, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that he was concerned about the results. He hated brewing anything less than perfectly, especially something as important as this, but his fingers were not quite as stiff as they had been before he began knitting three weeks prior, so perhaps that would work in his favor.

He bathed and dressed in his usual austere black robes, and he occupied his time while waiting for Lupin to arrive with arranging all the ingredients and equipment they would need neatly on his workroom table.

Lupin arrived and knocked exactly at the stroke of nine o’clock, and Severus smoothed the front of his robes before going to the door. He was surprised when the scent of coffee and pastries wafted to his nose, and he saw Lupin standing there with an armful of breakfast.

“You didn’t have to bring food,” he said. “I do have a stocked kitchen if you didn’t eat before you came over.”

Lupin looked a little surprised at that, but then he smiled warmly. “I didn’t wish to presume,” he replied. “Teddy was a little cranky this morning, so I didn’t get a chance to eat anything. Then I walked past a bakery on my way here, and everything in it smelled so good, I just had to get something. It would have been churlish not to bring you something too, and I thought I remembered that you like nice, flaky, buttery croissants.” He held up the bag and shook it gently. “Am I right?”

Severus was surprised that Lupin had noted his preferences at all, much less remembered them. “You aren’t wrong,” he said gruffly as he stood aside to let Lupin inside. He paused, and then asked, “Is that coffee, too?”

“Yes, I’m a loss in the morning without sufficient caffeine,” Lupin replied, stepping into the house. “I went for plain for you, since that’s all we ever had at meetings, so I didn’t know if you liked frou-frou ones. I like mine with a bit of chocolate in it.” He wrinkled his nose at Severus playfully. “I’m sure you’re shocked.”

“Completely stunned,” Severus replied dryly. “As it happens, I like my coffee to consist of coffee, nothing more.” Closing the door, he beckoned for Lupin to follow him to his workroom and set off without waiting to see if Lupin was keeping up. “There is room to set out your spread in my workroom.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lupin replied. When they reached the workroom, Lupin glanced around, taking everything in. He pointed to a clear area to one side. “Is over there all right?”

“Yes, that will do.” Severus nodded and went to move a few things further out of the way of potential crumbs and spills.

Lupin laid out the croissants and the coffee with a neat hand, adding napkins and little packets of sugar to the mix. He picked up one of the cups of coffee, added three packets of sugar to it and mixed it with a flick of his wand. “Help yourself,” he told Severus, and then he downed the coffee as though it were the elixir of life.

Severus retrieved the other cup and took a sip without adding anything; he didn’t want sugar, preferring the sharp taste of black coffee. Holding a cup of coffee was a simple enough matter, at least for a short time, but he used wordless, wandless magic to levitate a croissant onto a napkin and levitate the napkin over to himself, not wanting to look foolish if he fumbled while trying to pick up the thin, flat napkin.

“Thank you,” he said belatedly as he took his place behind the cauldron. “It’s rather good coffee.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Lupin replied. He picked up a napkin and a croissant as well, and he took a bite while he glanced over the neatly assembled ingredients. “So do these need to be prepared ahead of time or prepared fresh while you’re going along? I am proficient with chopping and peeling and such, but I doubt I have your speed.”

“They can be prepared ahead of time,” Severus replied. “The ingredients in the green dishes need to be chopped, the ingredients in the clear dishes need to be peeled and sliced, and the ingredients in the blue dishes need to be ground in the mortar and pestle. I have a pair of gloves and a mask for you to wear when you handle the aconite. The gloves are light and offer mobility, but they can withstand doxie bites, so you should be safe enough.” He fixed Lupin with a steady gaze and raised one eyebrow. “Do you have any questions?”

Lupin had listened carefully as Severus gave his instructions, and then he popped the last bite of his croissant in his mouth and shook his head. He followed it up with a sip of coffee, and then he set down his cup and dusted off his hands. 

“No questions, and I’m ready when you are. Just tell me which ones you want me to start with, and I’ll set to right now.”

“Start with the clear dishes,” Severus instructed as he lit a flame beneath his cauldron and began preparing the base of the potion with water and a few drops of ingredients that he thought Lupin would probably be happier not knowing were in the brew.

Lupin was neat in his work and cleaned up after himself when he finished a task, and he produced passable results, good enough that Severus only sent him back to redo something once. Lupin wasn’t a chatterer either, much to Severus’ relief, who tended to fall into single-minded intensity when he was brewing. It was different, focusing only on the stirring and mixing end of things, but he was absorbed in the work, and he was surprised to emerge from stage one to find it was nearing lunchtime.

“I suppose you’ll want something to eat,” he said, putting aside his ladle and rubbing his fingers absently. “If you don’t, I do. I can put together some sandwiches and leftover vegetable soup.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Lupin replied fervently. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, where it had fallen as he worked. “I wouldn’t mind a small break at all. You have my complete admiration for being able to do this day after day, being on your feet bent over a table. It’s a lot more difficult than I would ever have imagined.”

“Potions and alchemy have always been under-appreciated arts because they involve more effort than waving around a bit of wood,” Severus said haughtily. “Very few people are patient enough to put the time and effort into mastering the necessary skills.”

“I can believe that, but it also takes a certain talent,” Lupin replied. He washed his hands as he had between handling each ingredient, and he dried them on the towel Severus had provided. “I have patience, but unfortunately I just don’t have the _knack_ , or whatever it is that you do.” He gave a rather rueful smile. “It’s unfortunate, in one sense, because if I did, then I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else for the potion that makes me safe. But unfortunately, we don’t get to pick our talents, do we?”

“I suppose not.” Severus washed up and then beckoned for Lupin to follow him to the kitchen. “I believe diligent practice will take you quite far in any given field, but to advance to the levels of mastery and creation, having innate talent does help.”

Lupin trailed along into the kitchen and leaned against a counter. “Talent definitely helps,” he said, glancing around the neat kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help? At the very least, I want to wash up, since you’re so kind as to provide lunch.”

“Then by all means, you may do the washing up,” Severus replied as he moved around, retrieving the leftover soup to heat up, bread, and some sliced roast beef for the sandwiches.

He used magic to prepare the sandwiches rather than fumble with them by hand, and he levitated the plates over to the small kitchen table along with condiments, napkins, and flatware. He dished up the soup easily enough, but he levitated the bowls to the table as well, just to be on the safe side.

“There is plenty of soup if you want more,” he said as he took his usual seat at the table. “You needn’t be shy about it.”

“Thanks. It smells wonderful.” Lupin lowered himself into the seat across from Severus, picking up his spoon and beginning to eat. “It’s very good,” he said, his tone one of admiration. “I’ve often wondered if you were a good cook. It always seemed to me it would follow, you know? Given how much money Muggle chefs make, it’s a pretty lucrative career.”

“Is it?” Severus took in that information with interest. “I do enjoy cooking, but I’m not passionate about it. Brewing potions does give me something of an advantage in the kitchen, although the toolbox is different. Thyme rather than toad’s eyes, for example. In both cases, however, it’s a matter of understanding what works together, how it works, and why.”

“As I suspected, which is why my results are simply adequate with both cooking and brewing,” Lupin replied. He gave a crooked smile. “I always did wonder, though, if my talent at Defense is natural, or if being a Dark Creature gives me an edge. But I suppose what I envy most is that you can work in the field where your talent and interest lies. That has to be much more satisfying than just having a job to fill the time and pay the bills.”

“Perhaps I will find out now that I am self-employed,” Severus replied dryly. “I may have been working in my field for the past ten years, but I did not enjoy it, and it was not satisfying. I am not meant to teach, and I am willing to sacrifice job security for the chance to escape that burden.”

Lupin looked as if he were about to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind, his expression thoughtful. “I have no doubt you’ll be successful,” Lupin said quietly. “You’ve come through everything up until now, despite the odds. You have talent and determination, and I can’t imagine you failing at anything you set your mind to.”

“We shall see,” Severus said neutrally, giving a little shrug. “If nothing else, perhaps I can keep afloat by providing the Wolfsbane Potion to werewolves each month.” He studied Lupin for a moment, remembering something Lupin had said. “What about you? You mentioned Shacklebolt is cleaning up the Ministry. Does that mean you will be handing Minerva an application as soon as you can?”

“I don’t know.” Lupin looked down into his soup bowl. “I want to, certainly. My times at Hogwarts have been the happiest of my life. But just because the Ministry might _allow_ a werewolf to teach doesn’t mean that Minerva will want me to or that the parents of the children will accept me. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. I’d like to give my son a more stable life than I’ve had over the years.”

“I don’t doubt that Minerva would hire you. She always spoke highly of your teaching methods,” Severus said, barely refraining from curling his lip at the memories of her praise, especially since he knew she would never say the same about _him_. Likely she was as relieved as he was that he had no intention of returning because it meant she would no longer have to deal with traumatized students or endless arguments about how many points he had taken that week or his detentions being unnecessarily harsh.

Lupin looked up again. “Well, we did agree that we each have our talents,” he replied, his tone almost playful. “We’re both patient men, it seems, but patient with different things, don’t you think? So neither of us has really gotten to do the kind of work that we’ve wanted. Until now.” Lupin picked up his glass of water and offered Severus a toast. “Here’s to success for both of us.”

Severus looked at him as if he was mad for a moment, debating whether to encourage Lupin’s foolishness or not, but in the end, he supposed it was harmless. Besides, he could think of many people who would wish something far different from success on him, so he ought to take the good wishes where he could get them.

“To success,” he said, lifting his glass as well. “And to doing what we bloody well want to do for a change.”

Something crossed Lupin’s face at those words, but it was gone quickly. “Yes, here’s to that,” he said fervently. “No more hiding in shadows.” He paused for a moment. “Or the closet, for that matter.”

Severus choked on a sip of water and nearly did a spit-take as Lupin’s words - and the implication thereof - sank in, and when he regained his composure, he stared at Lupin in disbelief. “Out of the closet? But you were married! To a _woman_!”

Lupin smiled crookedly at that, seeming slightly amused at Severus’ reaction, but then he turned more serious. “Yes, I was. And I am hardly the first gay man to find himself in that situation, nor will I be the last.” A shadow passed over his face. “I didn’t mean to shock you, Severus, but your words struck a bit close to home. If I’d come out years ago, perhaps things would have turned out differently. I don’t regret Teddy, not now that he’s here, but for a man who had never even considered fatherhood a possibility, it was rather a shock to find out I was going to have a child. But I don’t mean to bore you with my shame. You’re just the first to know. Well, other than Tonks and her mother.”

Severus sat back in his chair, scarcely able to process what he’d learned. In all the years he had known Lupin, he had never suspected that Lupin was gay, but then again, Lupin was exceptionally good at hiding secrets. For that matter, so was Severus. In that, it seemed, they were equally talented.

He wasn’t certain whether he ought to confess the truth about himself or not. What did it matter, after all? His sex life had been a non-issue for so long that his libido had shriveled and dried up into nothing more than a dusty little raisin, and he doubted he would have a line of suitors banging on his door now that he was past his youth.

Still, it was not something he _needed_ to hide, not anymore. He’d had valid reasons for keeping his preferences to himself ever since his teens, but now, what did it matter? Telling Lupin the truth wouldn’t change anything.

“I suppose that is one thing we have in common, then,” he admitted in a low voice, avoiding eye contact as he spoke.

Lupin went very still across from him, and he rather thought Lupin was looking at him with surprise. Then he heard Lupin draw in a breath. “That and a skill for acting, it seems. Damn, we should go into theatre, the both of us.”

“Perhaps we missed our calling,” Severus said, breathing a little more easily now that the truth had come out and Lupin hadn’t mocked him for it.

“Indeed.” Lupin chuckled and shook his head. “Odd how you can know someone for nearly all of your life and still not know them, isn’t it? I knew that you liked croissants, and you are braver than any Gryffindor, and that you are probably the most honorable man I know, but I never suspected you were gay.”

Severus’ brows snapped together in a scowl at that, and he drew himself up straight. “Are you mocking me, Lupin?” he demanded. “Brave and honorable - _me_? If that is what you truly think of me, then you are the only one in the world to do so.”

Lupin blinked in surprise. “Of course it’s what I truly think!” he protested, holding up a hand in what appeared to be entreaty. “Dear Merlin, Severus, I wouldn’t mock you, not after everything we’ve both been through! You _are_ brave; you proved that again and again, every time you went out to spy for the Order, knowing that the Dark Lord could have discovered you were a spy. And you’re honorable because you also could have walked away at any time, leaving the fight and telling both sides to go to hell. But you didn’t. You stayed, despite the risks, despite how hard it was, because it was the right thing to do. It goes back in part to what I said to you when we met last week. I’m perfectly well aware of the things you _could_ have done, if you’d truly wished to do so, and you didn’t. You did what was _right_ , and I admire and respect that more than you know.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “I admit that there was one time I thought that perhaps you weren’t quite so honorable, but then I found out there were extenuating circumstances.”

“Oh.” Severus was so accustomed to being used, vilified, and looked down on because of his looks, his interests, his House, his poor background - his pretty much _everything_ \- that he scarcely knew what to do or say when someone acknowledged something positive about him. “I suppose you’re referring to when I outed you to the school. The curse was working through me, I suspect. I could have outed you for years before that, and I didn’t, after all.” He fidgeted restlessly with his fork, not certain how to respond to all the complimentary parts of Lupin’s explanation. “Anyway, it’s all very well and good that you think that about me, but you needn’t be insulting and compare me to a bloody Gryffindor in the process,” he said at last, mustering as much hauteur as he could.

Lupin chuckled and shook his head. “Pardon me, you’re right, and I’ll remember that in the future,” he said. “And yes, I was speaking of being outed, but when I found out about the curse, I knew that had to be why.” He shrugged then, looking uncomfortable. “Besides, if you had broken your word, it would have been a single sin of commission, in the face of all my sins of omission. Or, in other words, I’ve known for a long time that my own glass house isn’t going to stand up to the all the stones which could be tossed in its direction. I’m not proud of myself or a lot of the things I’ve done in my life, but... I’m hoping that I can make a clean start. It’s a new world in many ways, and I want to feel like I can atone for my past mistakes and move into the future without all the baggage I’ve had chained to me for the last thirty years.” He looked at Severus somberly. “In the face of that, and even though I know it might seem totally inadequate, I want to apologize to you, Severus, for the ways you’ve had to suffer for my cowardice, going all the way back to our school days. I haven’t the faintest clue why I was sorted into Gryffindor, to be honest. When it comes down to it, I feel like self-protecting cowardice has been more of a curse for me than lycanthropy.”

Severus found himself gob-smacked by Lupin again, scarcely able to believe that someone had _apologized_ to him about anything; he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, if it ever had. At least, he thought, Lupin was aware he had been a spineless rug; that had been thing that kept Severus from elevating him from “held in contempt” to “disliked”. Now it seemed Severus would have to revise his opinion of Lupin, perhaps even moving him into the “marginally more tolerable than most people” category on a permanent rather than trial basis since Lupin showed signs of being sensible enough to be tolerated regularly.

“Well, stop doing it,” he said at last. “If Shacklebolt is successful in repealing the anti-werewolf laws, things will begin to change, and you needn’t be a cowardly ninny. The pervasive attitude toward werewolves won’t change overnight, perhaps not even in our lifetime, but public opinion will eventually follow policy, and it will help if there are visible public figures who are also werewolves providing a good example.”

For a moment, Lupin looked stunned; perhaps he’d been expecting Severus to lash out and give him a verbal flaying or for Severus to toss him out on his ear. But Lupin recovered himself and nodded, giving Severus a look of wonder.

“I’m definitely going to stop,” he said, smiling ruefully. “Although everything is all out in the open now, so there isn’t much to protect any longer. But I probably should do what I can to make things better for others who are cursed. Merlin knows I don’t want anyone else to go through what I’ve had to endure over the years in fear and self-doubt. And self-loathing.” He drew in a deep breath. “Thank you again, Severus.”

“I don’t see what you’re thanking me for,” Severus replied. “I only told you what you ought to have known all along. If you had cared less about what people thought to begin with, you never would have caused so much trouble for yourself.”

Severus thought he could afford a little self-righteousness, considering he had come to the belated realization that he had brought many of _his_ own problems upon himself due to pride. Funny, he thought, what a shift in perspective almost dying could bring about. He was too relieved to be alive to care much about medals or recognition or being right. Well, to care as much as he used to, at any rate. He still quite enjoyed being right.

“I’m thanking you for not tossing me out on my furry arse,” Lupin said, giving a slight smile. “After giving you an apology that’s at least twenty years overdue. And I think I’d like to thank you for surviving, too, although I suspect you’ll roll your eyes over that one. But you make the world a far more interesting place, Severus. Working with you and talking to you has made me feel more really alive myself than anything I’ve done since the end of the war.”

“If I tossed you out, I would have no one to chop, peel, and slice for me,” Severus pointed out pragmatically. “Although I fail to see how that is remotely interesting. If working with me has been the highlight of your post-war life, you need to get out more.”

That caused Lupin to chuckle. “No doubt you’re right, though I’m hardly a social butterfly,” he replied. “And it really is interesting to see how you work. Believe me, it’s given me a new appreciation for your art.” He glanced down at his empty plate and bowl. “Speaking of which, I should probably wash up, if you want to continue.”

“There are more tasks we need to accomplish before the day’s end,” Severus said, waving his hand toward the sink. “So get to work.”

He wouldn’t say as much to Lupin, of course, but secretly, he was gratified to know that someone outside the field had gained an appreciation of it. He’d spent far too many years trying to show the students of Hogwarts how much they could learn and accomplish through potion-making, but most of them never understood the myriad facets of the art, much less cared. They wanted instant gratification, not hours spent hovering over a bubbling cauldron for results. Under the circumstances, he didn’t understand why anyone could possibly blame him for being exacting and harsh with his students; at least that way, he knew he would have to deal with only the best in his upper level classes, and even those who dropped as soon as possible would have a decent working knowledge of the field, whether they liked it or not.

Lupin rose, gathering up the bowls and plates and glasses and carrying them to the sink. “I can do this, if you wanted to go back and check on things,” he said. “Oh, and where is the loo?”

“Second door on the right when you leave the kitchen,” Severus replied as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. Lupin was right: he could be getting things accomplished rather than sitting there, watching Lupin wash dishes. “Try not to break anything,” he added as he left the kitchen and headed back to the workroom.

He occupied himself with checking the base of the potion and sorting out the next ingredients he needed Lupin to prepare for him while he waited for Lupin to return.

Several minutes later, Lupin came in and immediately returned to his place at the table. “So, what’s next?” he asked casually.

“Right in front of you,” Severus replied, pointing to the ingredients, which were divided into the same color of dishes as before. “Same directions as before. Chop the things in the green dish, and so on.”

With that, he turned his attention back to his own work, no longer feeling the need to supervise; Lupin was a quicker learner and knew how Severus wanted things done now, and Severus had gained a measure of trust that he would do things correctly the first time.

He’d never had an assistant before, but he could understand why other brewers hired them now; it sped the process along and freed him up to do other things, which was nice. Plus he got to order Lupin around, which was a definite bonus. Yes, he could grow accustomed to having an assistant. Perhaps he would look into it even after his hands were better.

He glanced sidelong at Lupin. Perhaps Lupin would agree to stay on a while, just until Severus could afford to hire someone. It was a mad thought, but it lingered in the back of his mind even though he wasn’t ready to voice it aloud. Not yet. Definitely not yet!


	7. Chapter 7

Remus woke slowly, moaning softly at the pain and stiffness in his joints. His transformations seemed to become more difficult the older he got, but the good news was that he didn’t have a number of self-inflicted wounds to deal with on top of the aches of having his body stretched and reformed twice in less than twelve hours. The potion Severus had made worked; apparently Remus’ own contributions had been good enough not to wreck things.

He glanced at the small window high on the basement wall. From the angle of the light filtering in through the boards nailed over it, the time was approaching late morning. He didn’t have to move, not quite yet, and he huddled under the old blanket he’d determined adequate for the wolf, mindless or not, waiting for the strength to return to his legs before he tried to move.

Teddy was with Andromeda, thank goodness, although Remus would make certain to pick him up before dinner time. He let his mind wander a bit, thinking back over the last two weeks. He’d found Severus surprisingly easy to work with, which was definitely a good thing since it probably helped contribute to the potion working. Who would have thought that he would have ended up spending hours of time with Severus Snape, and, more than that, actually enjoying himself? The intense periods of work were interspersed with discussions about a variety of subjects: magical theory, alchemy, dark creatures, defense against dark magic, sneering at the state of the wizarding world. Well, the sneering had been Severus’, but Remus had found himself agreeing with more than one of Severus acerbic observations. 

He’d actually been disappointed when the potion reached the stage where it only need to simmer for several days, since it meant he had no excuse to spend time in Severus’ company. But then the time came for him to begin taking the potion, and Remus found himself drawing out those visits for as long as possible, pleased that Severus didn’t seem in any hurry to rush him out the door. Severus had even offered him tea, and Remus was more than happy to accept.

The visits had also given him an opportunity to steal glimpses of the afghan Severus was knitting. He’d gotten a good look on the first day he’d helped Severus with the potion, taking the time after washing up to steal into the sitting room and peek. At that point, the project had looked about a fourth of the way finished, and Remus had noticed that Severus had been making steady progress ever since. It was gratifying to know that in some small way, he was contributing to Severus’ recovery, as well as helping out with the chopping and such that Severus couldn’t yet do by himself.

After Andromeda had taken Teddy the previous afternoon, Remus had distracted himself from the thoughts of his coming transformation by choosing the next project he would send to Severus. He’d noticed the well-used dishtowels in Severus’ kitchen, and he remembered his Mum knitting a variety of such cloths. It didn’t take him long to find an entire book of patterns for those and other kitchen items, and he’d gleefully gone through his mother’s stash, pulling out skein after skein of cotton yarn in a variety of colors. Most were in solid colors, but there were a variety that consisted of multiple colors, one after the other on the same skein. He chuckled as he removed anything in pale pastels from the mound, but that still left a hefty stack of yarn; some of it ought to appeal to Severus, and it would allow him to create some towels he might could even use in his brewing.

The yarn was still upstairs, awaiting the time he would need to pack up the skeins and send them off, and he made himself stand, surprising eager to see to the chore. He exited the basement, which had been made safe for a werewolf back when he was a child, and retrieved his clothing at the top of the stairs. He only put on his jeans, however, and stopped in the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

While he was waiting for the tea to steep, he was surprised by the tapping of an owl at the kitchen window. It wasn’t Andromeda’s owl, thank Merlin, but he still felt a bit of trepidation as he saw that the bird carried a small package. Who in the world would send anything to _him_ , and why now, on the morning after a full moon?

That question was swiftly answered, and what he saw inside the wrapping made Remus smile. It was a small jar of salve, and a note: "Apply as needed. Not of my making, but should suffice. You needn't thank me; I need you back at work sooner rather than later. -S"

Severus had actually sent something to help him get better... and not only that, he apparently wanted Remus to continue working for him. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but Remus very much wanted to continue working for Severus; he needed something more challenging than watching Teddy sleep all day. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was finding Severus more and more fascinating and intriguing every time they met.

It took only a few minutes to rub the salve into his hands and then his elbows and shoulders. It eased the stiffness, and he sent mental thanks to Severus for his thoughtfulness. And if Severus didn’t want an verbal expression of Remus’ appreciation, the least Remus could do was dispatch the next box of yarn with alacrity.

Smiling to himself, barely feeling any discomfort, Remus rose and headed toward the sitting room to box up and send off the yarn. Behind him, the tea continued to steep, completely forgotten.

* * *

Severus was quite proud of how his afghan was progressing; the large needles made the knitting go much faster, and he was gaining enough skill that he wasn’t as prone to dropping stitches as he had been at first. His fingers had grown a little more flexible too, which was also helping; he didn’t want to get his hopes up lest it prove to be wishful thinking, but he thought he could tell a noticeable difference in his manual dexterity. He wasn’t ready to try picking up a knife and chopping anything, but the mere fact that he _had_ improved more than he thought just from learning to knit was encouraging.

Besides, it really was quite satisfying to see his afghan growing bit by bit each day. It was rather like watching a potion coming together properly, knowing everything was falling into place just as it should. Actually, he thought, knitting and brewing had much in common: slow pace, rhythmic movement. He found himself getting lost in the motions of his needles just as he got lost in the slow circles of his spoon as he stirred a potion; it was relaxing, almost a form of physical meditation, and he felt as calm and relaxed while he was knitting as he did when he was brewing. Odd, that.

Still, the afghan wouldn’t last forever, and it _was_ a little tedious to work on the same thing day in and day out, thus he felt a bit of guilty delight when the owl post delivered another package for him that he readily identified as being from his secret yarn benefactor. He wasted no time in opening it, wondering what he might find this time - and was surprised to see a box full of something called “kitchen cotton”.

Further delving and digging uncovered an entire book of patterns for dishcloths and tea towels, and not just any patterns! No, these were patterns with techniques like cables and lacework, which left him simultaneously excited and intimidated. Was he ready to move beyond garter stitch, stockinette, and ribbing? Part of him declared that yes, he was! He was eager for a new challenge, and this was inexpensive yarn for small projects; he could practice, and if they turned out wrong, it wouldn’t matter because they would only be used to scrub dishes, cauldrons, and vials anyway.

There was a bit of metal shaped something like a fish hook amid the yarn as well with a handwritten label reading “cable needle”, so he didn’t even have the excuse of not having what he needed to get started. Clutching the box to his chest, he headed for the sitting room and dropped the box by his chair, sorting through the skeins until he found one in an acceptable shade of green. He put the cable needle on the tea table so it would be close at hand, and he retrieved the pair of bamboo 5mm needles, tucking them in the cushion beside himself while he studied the instructions carefully.

The cabling _looked_ tricky, and it would pose far more of a challenge for his hands than anything he had previously tried, but once he figured out that it was nothing more than moving some stitches back and forth on the needles, he was determined to try it. He picked a pattern that looked like a good starting place for a beginner - “wavy ribs” - and then he took a deep breath and cast on.


	8. Chapter 8

As much as Severus had come to appreciate the benefits of knitting, he didn’t like the idea of doing nothing but cook, tidy up, and knit for the next couple of weeks until it was time to brew the Wolfsbane Potion instead, and so he decided to let Lupin assist him in creating a pain relief salve, one that would be tailored specifically to the post-transformation needs of werewolves. That meant he needed to know exactly what werewolves needed, and so he gave Lupin a couple of days to recuperate following the full moon before issuing a summons which, much to his relief, Lupin wasted no time in heeding.

“I have an idea,” Severus announced without preamble as he poured two cups of tea and handed one to Lupin to prepare as he liked it. “But I will need your assistance in more ways than one to implement it,” he added as he settled comfortably in his chair by the hearth. 

Lupin, taking the chair opposite Severus’, leaned back and raised a brow, his expression full of curiosity. “Oh?” he asked, a gleam brightening his blue eyes. “I’m intrigued. Is it another potion or something requiring rather more physical exertion?”

For some reason, the mention of physical exertion made Severus feel a little flushed, but he ignored it and focused on business. “I want to create a pain salve that will help alleviate the post- transformation issues,” he said, clearing his throat. “I thought perhaps it could be sold in conjunction with the Wolfsbane Potion. There are pain salves available, of course, but those are created for different purposes - arthritis, back pain, and so on. There is nothing specifically made to fit the type and level of pain that werewolves experience, thus I can fill a gap in the market.” He regarded Lupin questioningly. “What do you think?”

“I think that is a brilliant idea.” Lupin’s voice was soft, and he looked at Severus with something that seemed to combine wonder and gratitude. And something else, too, that was there and gone quickly as Lupin looked down at his cup and took a hasty sip of tea. Then he cleared his throat. “It certainly would fill a gap in the market that no one else has even thought of broaching.”

“It is a limited market, to be sure, but there are plenty of other things I can create for more general consumption, and this seems like a natural companion product for the Wolfsbane Potion,” Severus replied, sipping his tea. “But first, I need to know exactly what you experience after the transformation, which areas are most affected, and whether a more potent salve than those currently available is even necessary. I can make it as strong as needed.”

Lupin nodded emphatically. “A more potent salve is definitely needed,” he replied, leaning forward in his chair. “I’ve tried many salves, including the one you so sent me, and they are of limited use. Not that I’m not grateful for your efforts,” Lupin hastened to add. “It did help, but something stronger would be better, and werewolves can take it, even if it is a bit painful upon application.”

“Duly noted.” Severus nodded and reached for a chocolate biscuit. “Where is the pain concentrated? Are there any other ailments aside from bone or joint pain that follow the transformation? Headache, for example?”

“ _Everything_ aches,” Lupin said ruefully. “But no, strangely enough headache isn’t part of it. Mostly it’s every joint, muscle, and tendon... even my bones seem to hurt.” He sighed. “It’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older, which I guess isn’t too surprising. But the pain seems to mostly be from everything being reshaped. Think of what it feels like to badly pull a muscle, sprain your ankle, _and_ break a bone... then multiply that by your whole body, and I think that just about sums it up.”

Severus refrained from wincing; he had never given any thought to what werewolves went through month after month, despite all his study of Dark creatures. He was interested in them on an intellectual level, but empathy and compassion had never run particularly strong in him to begin with, and so the physical and mental stress of the monthly transformation had never really sunk in with him before.

“Something to alleviate bone and joint pain and muscle ache, then,” he mused. “Do you have trouble resting afterward? I could create a werewolf-strength sleeping draught as well. In fact, if there is any other product that would be of use, do let me know.”

Lupin considered that for a few moments. “I think that sleeping would be easier if the pain were alleviated,” he said thoughtfully. “You know, though... one thing that might be helpful, if it’s even possible, would be something to take before the transformation to help with the anxiety or maybe even to knock us out during it. The biggest disadvantage of the Wolfsbane potion is that I _remember_ the transformation, every horrible moment of it. Believe me, none of us really want to remember and have to dread it every month.”

Severus nodded slowly as he mulled over the possibilities. “There are options,” he said at last. “I can create an anti-anxiety potion to take the edge off, I can create a sedative strong enough to knock you out for roughly twelve hours, and I can also create an anti-depressant for the rest of the month.” Lost in thought, he frowned and tapped his chin with his twined fingers. “I wonder if perhaps you ought to discuss some of this with Shacklebolt. It seems to me that the Werewolf Services ought to make itself useful for once.”

“I could try,” Lupin said slowly. “I know Kingsley is very busy, but perhaps he’s had enough time to get a handle on things by now.” Then he grinned. “You know, with having me as your guinea pig, you could develop a whole treatment protocol and we could lobby the Ministry for them to purchase it for the werewolf community or at least subsidize it to a large extent. ‘A happy werewolf is a safe werewolf’ or something of the sort.”

“Precisely.” Severus nodded, feeling quite satisfied about the plan he had in mind. “The potion, salve, and sedative could be a package with the anti-depressant offered to werewolves who are having difficulty adjusting to their new state of being. If we can get the production of these items funded by the Ministry, then we will be able to provide them to more werewolves, including those who might not be able to afford it on their own.”

Privately, Severus wondered where this altruistic streak had come from, but he supposed he had fought for A Cause for so long, he found it easy to take up another one; at least it meant he wouldn’t feel at loose ends any longer.

Lupin was looking at him intently, an odd, almost hungry glint rising in his eyes for a moment. “That would be... amazing,” Lupin said softly, a husky tone coloring his voice. “It would mean a great deal to so many people. And to me.”

Severus felt that odd flush of warmth again as he looked at Lupin, and for some reason, the thought of pleasing Lupin pleased him in return. He wasn’t certain when Lupin’s opinion began to matter, but obviously, it had, and the thought didn’t disturb him as much as it probably should have.

“Well, I need something to do,” he said at last, flailing for an explanation that wouldn’t make him appear too foolish. “I cannot seem to function well without a goal to accomplish.”

“Well then, I definitely appreciate that you picked a goal so near and dear to my own heart,” Lupin replied, his eyes warm and a small smile playing about his lips. “Given your drive and abilities, I consider it to be an amazing blessing for me and others like me. Thank you, Severus. I place myself completely at your disposal. I’ll do anything and everything you want me to in order to help you meet that goal.”

“You may end up regretting such an open-ended offer,” Severus replied, allowing himself the luxury of a little humor. “But if you want to make this a joint effort and move it forward as quickly as possible, then it will indeed mean being at my disposal.” He paused, suddenly remembering that Lupin had a child to consider. “I have a guest bedroom that could be used as a sort of day care area if you like. It can be modified to accommodate an infant. That will have to be your task, however. I know nothing about babies or what they need.”

 _Although I do know the room will be fumigated_ , he thought, considering Pettigrew had been the last occupant of the room.

Lupin looked completely gobsmacked. “Really? You wouldn’t mind me bringing Teddy over?” He looked lost for words, but then he managed to pull himself together. “That would be wonderful,” he said, smiling at Severus as though the sun rose and set on him. “He still sleeps a great deal, but I don’t like to leave him with someone else all the time. He lost his mother. I think it’s important for him to know that I’m there for him.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Severus replied, thinking about his own mother, who had been his sole support system until her death. “Well, the products I mentioned today are nowhere near as difficult as the Wolfsbane Potion. It will be easy to take breaks if you need to attend to the child, so there is no reason why he cannot be here.”

“Thank you.” Lupin seemed to want to say something more, but then he visibly took himself in hand. “So, when would you like to begin? I don’t have anything on my plate at the moment, and I could even take a look at that room and get started on it today, if you’d like.”

“Go ahead,” Severus replied, nodding. “The sooner you are ready, the sooner we can get started creating the products. It will be a matter of experimentation at first, and you will definitely be my guinea pig.”

“I trust you,” Lupin said simply, and then he put his tea cup aside and rose, looking eager. “Upstairs, you said? Let’s go and have a look, and I can see what I should bring over. One of the good things about it will be that if we work late because something seems promising, I won’t have to worry about retrieving Teddy or having to cut things short.”

Putting aside his cup as well, Severus rose to his feet and beckoned for Lupin to follow him as he led the way upstairs. “You may do whatever you wish to the room,” he said. “I never have guests, so it isn’t being used, and we may be working together quite a while,” he added, glancing sidelong to see how Lupin reacted to that possibility.

“That makes sense,” Lupin said, the idea not seeming to bother him in the slightest. “There’s no way to predict how long it might take for you to hit upon the right combination of treatments. And with the full moon coming only once per month, it might take a few months to test thoroughly.” He tilted his head, lifting a brow and smiling. “That doesn’t bother you, Severus? I wouldn’t like you to feel as though you were being invaded.”

“No, it’s fine,” Severus said, and he was surprised to realize he meant it. The prospect of working closely with Lupin for months, perhaps longer, was not an unpleasant one. On the contrary, he found Lupin’s company tolerable. He might even go so far to say that Lupin had moved from “marginably more tolerable than most people” to “surprisingly tolerable.”

“Good.” Lupin beamed, and then he looked around the room, nodding. “I think this will do quite well. It won’t take long to get things in order, and then we can get to work.” He looked back at Severus and reached out to touch him on the arm. “I’m looking forward to it, Severus. I have enjoyed working with you more than I’ve enjoyed anything in quite some time, and I’m looking forward to continuing.”

“We’ll see if you still think that after another month or two,” Severus replied. He didn’t understand what Lupin could find enjoyable about it, but he wasn’t going to question it either since he found himself looking forward to it too.


	9. Chapter 9

Remus put Teddy down in the magical cradle and set it to rocking with a tap of his wand. Teddy yawned widely, stuck his thumb between his rosy lips, and then his eyes - blue, like Remus’, at least for the moment - slowly closed. Smiling, Remus bent over to kiss his son’s soft cheek, and then he checked to see that the magical baby monitor was set up properly before making his way to the door of the room, leaving the now sleeping infant to his nap.

The room Severus had offered the use of had required a bit of work, but magic had allowed Remus to get it refurbished in only a few hours. The old wallpaper and the indeterminately colored carpet on the floor had been banished, and Remus had charmed the walls a soothing medium green and purchased a rug in a deeper, forest green to compliment them with curtains to match. He’d then procured another cradle, a changing table, and a rocking chair where he could feed Teddy or soothe him if necessary. All in all, he thought it a rather charming room now, one that didn’t necessary scream “BABY!” but was perfectly adequate for Teddy’s occupation, as well as suitable for Severus to use - with the appropriate furniture added - if he did end up having visitors.

So far, the situation had been quite satisfactory, at least from his perspective. Severus had been accommodating in ways Remus would never have imagined possible, and Remus found himself looking forward every day to going to Severus’ house and getting further involved in the work. Perhaps he had simply needed something worthwhile to fill his time, but he felt happier and more content than he could remember feeling in a very, very long time. He had Severus to thank for it, but Remus had to admit to himself that what he was beginning to feel for Severus was far more than gratitude or even friendship.

Ever since discovering Severus was homosexual, Remus had been imagining what Severus might be like as a lover. He knew he had no business doing so, since it was an amazing thing that Severus tolerated him, much less wanted anything more from him after their rocky history. But he couldn’t help it. He found he didn’t mind Severus’ temper, impatience, or snark one bit as long as they weren’t directed at him personally. In fact, he found he agreed with most of Severus’ opinions about the state of the Wizarding World and the uselessness of certain people and institutions. Severus’ passion about his work and his views was stimulating, and Remus couldn’t help but wonder if Severus would bring that same passion and intensity to the bedroom.

Merlin, he certainly hoped Severus did - although hoping was about all he could do, at least at this point.

The truth was, Severus was becoming important to him on more than one level, and that was where Remus suddenly felt himself floundering at sea. He was glad Severus had accepted his apology, and they got on well together, but he wasn’t certain how to begin determining if Severus might be interested in things going even further. Part of him favored the direct approach: “I fancy you... if it’s mutual, let’s shag.” The biggest problem with that was if Severus was angered by the thought of Remus thinking of him in That Way, it would mean the end of something that Remus found mattered to him very much. Yet he had very little experience in seduction, and he thought it might be worse if Severus figured out that he was being wooed and was worse than offended. Having been on the wrong side of Severus’ temper for almost thirty years, Remus didn’t fancy a return to it.

No closer to a solution now than he’d been a few days ago when he’d finally admitted to himself how he felt, he sighed as he made his way down to the workroom. Smiling at Severus, he stepped up to the table.

“Teddy’s down, which means we should have several hours before he’ll want his supper and a change. So where would you like to go from here?”

“I’d like to start working on the pain salve,” Severus replied. “There are plenty of recipes for pain salves, but I haven’t found any as strong as I need, thus I intend to modify an existing recipe to heighten its effects rather than start from scratch since we have other products to create.” He went to his cauldron and lit a fire beneath it. “How effective was the one I sent you?”

Remus unconsciously rubbed at his arms, remembering the post-transformation pain. “It took the edge off, but it didn’t soothe the deep ache in the bones. Basically, on a scale of one to ten, it took off perhaps two points at the most of the pain. Does that help?”

Severus’ satisfied look - not quite a smile, but as close as he ever got - spoke for him. “That was one of the strongest salves available at the apothecary,” he said, and Remus wondered if perhaps Severus had had the salve already for use on his hands or if perhaps Severus had bought it specifically for Remus. “It gives me an idea of how much to amplify our version.”

“Will you be able to amplify with natural ingredients, or will you have to use magical ones?” Remus asked, curious as to how Severus intended to improve on things that much. He found himself far more interested in potions now than he’d ever been at school, perhaps because Slughorn simply hadn’t been that good of a teacher, and - surprisingly - Severus was, at least with an interested pupil who didn’t drive him _too_ crazy.

“I will have to give some of the ingredients a little boost, but it is possible to create a more powerful salve with natural ingredients,” Severus replied with a little nod. “If I were not creating this for werewolves, I might try making it without magical enhancement, but I suspect the curse requires magical cures rather than organic ones. Battling magic with magic, as it were,” he added as he began moving around the room and pulling down ingredients from his meticulously organized shelves.

“That makes sense,” Remus agreed, watching Severus move around, reaching up to retrieve items, his body looking almost impossibly long and lean as he stretched. Remus found himself fascinated by Severus’ graceful movements, and he wished more than anything that Severus was in jeans rather than in his usual, enveloping robes with all the maddening buttons that Remus longed to rip apart. He would have loved to see how denim molded itself to Severus’ arse and to the slim muscles of his legs.

Heat rose in him, and he knew his skin was flushed. But there wasn’t much help for it, and perhaps letting Severus see that Remus appreciated the sight of him wouldn’t be a bad thing. If worse came to worst, Severus could simply decide not to notice.

Severus was obviously being careful, handling no more than one jar or bottle at a time, but suddenly, he let out a sharp expletive as a wide, round jar slipped out of his hand and smashed on the floor, spilling pickled bits of _something_ in an ever-widening puddle. He drew his wand, but Remus could see his fingers were shaking and stiff, hindering his spell-casting ability. With another muttered expletive, he summoned a dish towel and began to mop up manually.

All thoughts of attraction fled as Remus saw Severus drop the jar. Remus hurried over, drawing his own wand and bending down, banishing the stray bits of glass which had spread across the floor. He looked at Severus in concern, and then he noticed the dishcloth Severus was using: denim blue and knitted with a pattern that looked like thin chains. He had to smother an inappropriate grin at the sight of it, not wanting Severus to think he was making light of his accident.

“Here, why don’t you let me clean up?” he asked instead. “I’m the dogsbody, after all. Chopping and cleaning are things I can do. You’re the only one who can design the potion.”

The look Severus gave him was fleetingly grateful, and Remus could well imagine that someone as proud and fiercely independent as Severus disliked attention being drawn to his limitations.

“Very well,” Severus said, and he offered the towel. For a moment, he looked like he might snatch it back, but he seemed to decide it was too late to hide his creation, and he continued holding it out.

Remus took it, looking down at it and raising a brow. “This is a very nice dishcloth,” he said, letting Severus see his genuine admiration. “My mother used to knit, so I know how much work goes in to such things. Did you make it yourself?”

Severus looked a bit awkward, and he avoided looking directly at Remus as he responded. “Yes,” he said in a low, grudging voice, and then he added with a hint of defensiveness, “It was the Healer’s idea. She suggested taking up knitting as a form of physical therapy to help regain flexibility in my hands. I haven’t had much else to do, so...” He shrugged and gestured vaguely at the dish cloth.

“That was inspired of her!” Remus said, nodding approvingly, wanting to reassure Severus. “Knitting requires a great deal of skill, and it really would be a great way to help the strength and flexibility return. I remember my mum saying that she always thought that her knitting helped stave off arthritis in her hands, and I remember how strong and supple her hands were.”

Severus eyed him suspiciously, as if weighing his words to see if he was telling the truth, and then Severus seemed to relax a little. “It does seem to have helped a little,” he admitted. “Not as much or as quickly as I would like, but the Healer assures me I must be patient.”

“Mum said it took her years to get really, really good at it,” Remus replied, giving him an encouraging smile. “She tried to teach me, but I suppose I was too young and eager to get outside and play, or... well, after I was bitten, I just wanted to read to escape.” He caressed a dry area of the dishcloth, looking wistful. “I wish now I’d taken the time to learn, though, because just seeing something like this seems to bring her closer, you know? And handmade things are so much more special than those bought in a shop.”

Severus listened quietly, his expression somber, and then he nodded. “I’ve found it is rather like brewing potions,” he said. “The act itself is soothingly repetitive, almost like a form of physical meditation, and the results take time to create rather than being instantaneous. I find it oddly enjoyable.”

“That makes sense. I can see how it could end up being something like a mantra.” Remus sighed and started to mop up again. “Seems a shame to use your well-crafted cloth to mop this up, but I’ll clean it afterward so it’ll be good as new. I like the pattern you used. Was it difficult to learn?”

“I’ve learned that every technique is simply a variation on knitting and purling,” Severus replied, seeming more at ease now that Remus was displaying interest rather than scorn. “Once you master the basics, you can do anything you set your mind to. Some techniques are more challenging than others, but I have had success with everything I have attempted so far.” He paused, regarding Remus with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then he added, “You needn’t worry about preserving the cloth. I made it to be used, and I have others.”

He paused again before casting a summoning charm, and then he held out a dishcloth to Remus. The pattern looked like a basketweave, and oddly enough, the color of the yarn was rather close to Gryffindor gold.

“Here, you may have this one if you wish,” Severus said, seeming almost shy, as if he wasn’t certain how his gift would be received.

Remus straighted, surprised at the offer but touched and very, very pleased. “For me, really?” he said, smiling widely as he stood and moved to take the cloth from Severus. “It’s wonderful.” 

He ran a finger over the pattern, admiring the regular stitches and the way Severus had bound off the edges so meticulously. Then he raised his head, and before he could think twice about it, he leaned forward and kissed Severus on the lips, gently but firmly. “Thank you, Severus. I will think of you every time I use it.”

Severus stared at Remus, wide-eyed, and he lifted his hand to press his fingertips against his lips as if they tingled from the contact.

“If you get this maudlin over a _dishcloth_ , I wonder what you would have done had I knitted you a sweater,” Severus said at last, seeming to muster some snark, although his voice had a husky edge.

The kiss had been almost as much of a surprise to Remus as to Severus; it had just seemed natural to do it, and he’d felt the contact of their lips as a flare of warmth that went all the way down to his toes. Fortunately Severus hadn’t taken offense, and perhaps the slight deepening of his voice meant that he’d liked it.

Remus was a cautious man by nature, but something about this moment seemed to draw out his more impulsive side. Perhaps it was the wolf within, who had seemed to sit up and take notice of that kiss in a way it never had with anyone else. Whatever the reason, Remus dropped his own voice to an enticing growl.

“For a sweater, I’d grant you the privilege of putting it on me. Or taking it off, if that is what you’d prefer.”

Severus’ dark eyes grew wider still, and a tell-tale flush rose in his sallow cheeks, but then Remus caught a flare of uncertainty in his eyes before he looked away.

“I wouldn’t... I _don’t_ require repayment of that sort,” he said, seeming to gather up his pride. “I am not a charity case, no matter what anyone might think.”

Remus reached out, horrified that Severus had taken his words that way, and grasped Severus’ arm. “I know that!” he said urgently, not wanting Severus to misunderstand. “I know you don’t require it, and I would never think of it as charity!” He flushed, knowing that he was going to have to make an admission, and he gave Severus a wide-eyed look of appeal. “At the risk of having you toss me out the door, I have to admit that I’m attracted to you, Severus. I’m sorry, I suppose I shouldn’t have expressed it in that way, since it’s probably not mutual. It’s just that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent together lately so much, and I’d been thinking how much we have in common, and how drawn to you I am. If I’ve offended you, I apologize, but I hope you won’t end our working relationship. I don’t want to lose your friendship over this.”

“You’re attracted to _me_?” Severus stared at Remus as if he heard the words, but they didn’t make any sense, and he eyed Remus dubiously. “But no one is ever attracted to me!”

Remus couldn’t help giving a ghost of a smile at that. “Well, I’m a werewolf, and by society’s standards, that makes me no one,” he said. Then he sobered. “It’s the truth, Severus. I was agonizing over how to admit it to you because I wasn’t certain how you’d react, but then my mouth sort of ran away with me. I just hope you aren’t offended that I feel that way.”

He didn’t say that he wouldn’t have been surprised if more people hadn’t been attracted to Severus over the years, but kept it to themselves for fear of Severus striking them down where they stood for having the audacity to think of him in that way; Severus seemed to be having a hard enough time with the conversation as it was.

“I’m not offended,” Severus replied, shaking his head, and he still looked incredulous. “I simply have a difficult time believing it is true. I have a functional mirror,” he continued, his tone turning dry. “Given I don’t have a charming, amiable nature to offset my lack of looks, I can’t understand what one could possibly find attractive.”

At least Severus wasn’t screaming, and in his words, there was an underlying thread of self-consciousness that tore at Remus’ heart. For a man as strong as Severus to doubt himself in anything was unacceptable, and Remus tossed any thoughts of self-protection to the winds.

“Then let me tell you what I find attractive,” he said, stepping closer to Severus. He reached out to brush the frown line between Severus’ eyes. “I’m fascinated by the way you concentrate on things to the exclusion of all else, so wrapped up in your work that the world fades away, and it makes me wonder what it would be like to have that focus turned on _me_.”

He trailed his fingers over Severus’ eyebrows. “Then there are your eyes, so dark and intense, which can burn with fury or turn into chips of black ice, so cold they freeze their target to the bone. I think about how they would look when the heat is from passion instead of anger or if the ice melted into sated pools.”

Smiling, Remus ran his finger gently down Severus’ nose. “Of course, there is the old saw about men with large noses being very well endowed, and it makes me yearn to discover if that’s really true.”

Finally, his fingers came to rest on Severus’ lips. “Then, of course, there is your mouth. Your snarky, sexy, impossible mouth with the voice which can be harder than steel, cutting more effectively than a knife. But I’ve heard velvet in its tones, too, and I’ve dreamed of how your lips would feel against mine as we kissed, and I’ve wondered if your voice would caress like silk over my skin as you explored it.” He drew in a deep breath. “I could go on, Severus, enumerating every part of you and what about it fascinates me so, including the personality you believe you lack. As you can tell, I’ve given this a lot of thought recently, so I don’t mind reciting the whole catalog if you still don’t believe me. Otherwise, tell your mirror to go hang, because it simply doesn’t have an appreciation for attractiveness that goes far deeper than the skin.”

For the first time ever, Remus got to see Severus Snape rendered speechless. Severus’ jaw dropped and worked silently for a moment before Severus managed to get anything out, and when he did, it was a quiet, “Oh.”

He drew himself up straight, and Remus had just enough time to wonder if he was working himself up to a particularly blistering snark meant to flay Remus’ ego until it was nothing more than tattered shreds.

Instead, however, he spoke with measured dignity. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to most of what you have wondered about, since I have not had the opportunity to find out. There is only one answer I _can_ provide, but I believe you mentioned discovering it for yourself.”

A flare of hope sprang to life within him, and Remus drew in a deep breath, before daring to step a little closer to Severus, enough so that their body heat overlapped, and he could smell Severus’ spicy scent, more alluring to him - and to the wolf - than any cologne.

“And would you allow me to make that discovery?” he asked softly, feeling the wolf stir, something feral and hungry rising up in his eyes. But he wasn’t about to overstep the bounds unless he was certain that Severus wanted it as well. “Or is my overwhelming curiosity going to do me in as effectively as it killed the mythical cat?”

Severus gazed at him from beneath lowered lashes, and the harsh lines of hauteur on his face were softened into something approachable, almost vulnerable. “I find your company surprisingly tolerable,” he said. “Thus I think perhaps I might allow it.”

Remus chuckled softly; Severus was a delight, still himself even when being propositioned by someone, never surrendering without a show of spirit. There was no one else like him in the world; no one who made a more implacable enemy nor a more loyal or trustworthy ally, no one who could be more uncompromising in his righteous fury and yet still accepting of a sincere apology humbly given. Remus had seen it in his own case, and now here he stood, poised on the precipice of something vast and incredible, something that he knew could never be so simple as a quick shag born of mutual attraction or even friends with benefits. Not for him. Not with a man like Severus.

Staring into Severus’ eyes, seeing the softness in his face, the unconscious coyness of glance, Remus felt his heart totter once and then plunge over the edge, taking what seemed to be inevitable flight straight to the only person who would ever possess it.

The wolf was growling in wholehearted endorsement, and Remus felt the sound echoed in his own chest. The dishcloths were dropped, forgotten as Remus pulled Severus into his arms and claimed Severus’ mouth in a deep, possessive kiss.

He felt rather than heard Severus’ gasp, but despite whatever surprise Severus may have felt, he didn’t pull away from Remus’ embrace. Instead, he parted his lips, offering silent permission to continue, and he rested his hands lightly, almost hesitantly at Remus’ waist, his reticence seeming borne more of uncertainty than reluctance.

Remus didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, but he instinctively altered it to be more seductive and beguiling. He explored Severus’ mouth, keeping his hunger in check, seeking to make Severus moan, to give him pleasure. He moved his hands along Severus’ back, caressing him, molding their bodies together. Severus felt wonderful against him, long and lean, his body slender and firm in Remus’ arms. 

Slowly, he felt Severus begin to relax against him, and it seemed as if Severus grew more comfortable with the leisurely exploration, even to the point of sliding his hands from Remus’ waist to his lower back and making tentative efforts to mirror Remus’ actions, participating in the kiss instead of receiving it passively.

The kiss continued, slow and sweet, and Remus didn’t hurry it. Instead, he kept his movements gentle and gave a moan of encouragement when Severus began to caress him so that Severus would know he was enjoying it. He gently coaxed Severus on, the slide of their tongues a wonderful discovery, and he memorized Severus’ taste, deciding at once that he was completely addicted.

After a few moments of slow coaxing, Severus grew bolder; it seemed that in this, like so many other things, he was a quick learner - and he seemed like a rather eager student as well. When he pulled back at last, his dark eyes were indeed warm, just as Remus thought they might be, and his thin lips were rosy.

Remus smiled, pleased by the way Severus looked. “Now do you believe I’m attracted to you?” he asked, pressing his hips forward slightly so that Severus could feel just how much the kiss had affected him.

“That was a fairly convincing argument,” Severus replied, his expression turning arch even as he pressed against Remus in return. “But I would not refuse future attempts to press your case if you want me to be thoroughly convinced.”

“How could I refuse such a seductive invitation?” Remus asked, his eyes gleaming with desire. He moved one hand, caressing Severus’ cheek gently with his forefinger. It was obvious to him that as well as not believing in his own attractiveness, Severus had little experience when it came to sex. He was a fast learner, that much was certain, but Remus sensed that Severus had been waiting to see what he would do first, letting Remus take the lead before gaining the confidence to give back. Rather than putting him off, however, the wolf was somehow smugly pleased with Severus’ responses, but Remus also had to make certain that nothing happened that would cause Severus any concern or doubt.

“I don’t want you to feel self-conscious, Severus, but I must ask,” he said, looking at Severus with genuine affection, his voice soothing. “You’ve not had a lot of experience at this, have you? I only want to know because if that’s the case, I don’t want to push you faster than you’re ready to go. I desire you very much - “ and _that_ was certainly a massive understatement! “ - but I need to make sure I’m not making a mess of things or doing anything that you don’t like or want.”

“No,” Severus admitted, looking both annoyed and chagrined at having to make the confession. “I realized my preferences when I was in my early teens, but I also knew quite well what my peers thought of me and my potential as a boyfriend. Even if they too were gay, they would not want _me_. After I left school, my circumstances were not exactly conducive to pursuing a relationship, and the thought of approaching strangers for casual sex...” He shook his head vehemently, and it didn’t take Legilimency for Remus to know Severus’ self-image issues had factored in to that attitude. “When I was spying for Albus, it was too dangerous for me to risk becoming involved with anyone, so...” He trailed off and shrugged. “I never had the time or opportunity to gain experience.”

“I see... and I understand.” Remus did understand, and while part of him felt terrible for the loneliness and self-doubt Severus’ words described, the wolf was pleased by the thought of being Severus’ first. The first to claim his mate.

 _Merlin_! Remus thought, leaning forward to nuzzle Severus’ cheek, so that Severus couldn’t see his turmoil. He was in love with Severus, and the wolf had decided at last to choose a mate. He could _not_ mess this up or risk driving Severus away; if that happened, he would lose everything.

He drew in a breath and pulled back, smiling at Severus tenderly. “Would you permit me the honor of courting you, Severus? I want to be your lover, but only once you are certain beyond any doubt that you wish to be mine. If you have any hesitations, I want to work through them. You mean a great deal to me, and I’d hate for a bad or rushed experience to put you off me and cause you to send me away.”

Severus gave him another wide-eyed look, but this time, it shifted quickly into regal hauteur, and he lifted his chin. “Yes,” he said loftily. “I will permit you to court me.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, pleased and amused by Severus’ attitude. Well, Severus deserved to be courted, and he deserved to take pride in the fact that he was _being_ courted. If it helped to increase Severus’ self confidence - and, thereby, made him more certain of Remus - then it was all to the good. “So... would you care for more kisses, or would you prefer to get back to work?”

Severus actually seemed to debate the issue, which was a positive sign, and then his expression turned rueful. “I suppose we should get back to work,” he said at last. “There is a great deal I want to accomplish today while I have a willing guinea pig on hand.”

“Very willing,” Remus replied, giving Severus a heated look. “And in more than one way.” He kissed Severus again, briefly but firmly, before stepping back with reluctance. “Perhaps if we get everything done that you wanted, you could reward me with kiss later?”

“Perhaps, if you are a very good assistant,” Severus replied, giving him another arch look before moving away slowly and returning to his cauldron. “I suppose it _would_ help if you had some incentive.”

“Incentive never hurts,” Remus agreed, and then he bent down to retrieve the dishcloths. Then he turned and began to clean up the spill again. This time, he turned so that Severus got a good view of his arse, glad that he was still in decent shape and walked enough to keep himself toned and fit.

He didn’t know if Severus would enjoy the view, but it certainly couldn’t hurt any. In fact, perhaps it would help Severus to decide he couldn’t live without Remus in his life; but even if it didn’t, Remus was looking forward to wooing Severus. It might be the most difficult thing he’d ever tried to do, but he had no doubt whatsoever that it would never, ever be boring.


	10. Chapter 10

To say that Remus had given Severus something to think about was a massive understatement. The last thing he’d expected to happen when he accepted Remus as an assistant was for Remus to kiss him in the middle of his workroom, but it had, and he found that he didn’t mind at all. On the contrary, he had quite enjoyed it, and he looked forward to more kisses.

He looked forward to more time spent with Remus, and he realized that Remus’ continued presence in his life had somehow become something important, perhaps even necessary, rather than merely tolerated. Remus had said he didn’t want to make a mistake and risk Severus sending him away, but Severus didn’t think he would be sending Remus away.

He liked that Remus was willing to be patient while he learned, and he liked that Remus wanted to court him. That made it sound like he was worth taking the time to know, but then Remus had a way of making him feel things that no one ever had before, and he wanted more.

His main concern at this point had nothing to do with his own inexperience or with Remus. No, it had to do with himself. He knew he wasn’t amiable or expressive, not when it came to _positive_ emotions, at least. He had little experience with emotional intimacy as well as sexual intimacy, and he wasn’t certain how to make sure Remus understood that Severus was... Well, growing fond of him. The last thing Severus wanted was for Remus to grow discouraged by his reticence and give up.

The problem was, he wasn’t certain he _could_ express such things, not verbally. But then he thought about the dishcloth and how soppy Remus had gotten over it - and Severus hadn’t even made it with him specifically in mind. Perhaps if Severus knitted something for him - or better yet, for his son - it would express everything that Severus couldn’t say aloud.

He didn’t have any patterns for baby items, and so he set off for the yarn shop, feeling more comfortable amid the cubbyholes stuffed with yarn and the array of accessories. He went straight for the pattern books and spent the better part of thirty minutes poring over the various patterns available for children. There were several that tempted him, but he had to keep his physical limitations in mind. As much as he might want to try knitting a baby hat with smaller circular needles, he didn’t think his fingers were up to it quite yet.

In the end, he decided on a blanket that called for big needles and had an interesting pattern: [alternating squares of solid stockinette and lace](http://www.knitpicks.com/patterns/Posy_Patch_Baby_Blanket__D10472220.html). He hadn’t done lacework yet, but it appeared to be a simple enough pattern, consisting of yarn-overs and stitches knit together. He didn’t know what “ssk” meant, but he could look it up when he returned home.

Selecting the yarn was almost as lengthy a process, since the pastel blues found in the baby yarn section didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. In the end, he was drawn to a blend of pima cotton and acrylic that was washable and wonderfully soft, something that wouldn’t scratch a baby’s delicate skin. Even though he loathed pastels, he didn’t think it would be appropriate to give Teddy a black baby blanket, and so he compromised and chose a blue-green called “Sea Foam” that was not as insipid as the colors available in the baby yarns.

As soon as he returned home, he cast on and began to knit, the big needles making the squares form quickly, much to his satisfaction. Since it was a baby blanket, it wouldn’t have to be as big as his afghan - which was still in progress - and so he hoped he would be able to finish soon so that he could give it to Remus and hopefully send the message that he couldn’t bring himself to speak aloud.


	11. Chapter 11

On Monday morning, Remus Apparated to the alley in Spinner’s End that he normally used and walked quickly toward Severus’ house. He hadn’t seen Severus since Friday, which was entirely too long in his opinion. Unfortunately, it had been necessary; Andromeda had wanted to take Teddy to visit some of Ted Tonks’ Muggle relatives, and Remus had used the time to catch up on chores and paperwork that he’d neglected at his own house. Then Sunday had been spent seeing to shopping and washing and taking Teddy for a walk outside. But his thoughts had never been far from Severus, and he was longing to see him, to kiss him, to hold Severus close and feel the slender lines of his body.

“Almost there, Teddy,” he told the baby in his arms. Teddy was awake, sucking a thumb and looking up at Remus with blue eyes that seemed perfectly content. Remus smiled down at his son, wondering if and when he should try to really get Severus acquainted with the baby. He wanted a permanent relationship with Severus, and while Severus had certainly been tolerant, even gracious where Teddy was concerned, if there was any hope of them being together long term, it was going to necessitate Severus becoming more involved with Teddy. And Remus knew that Severus wasn’t terribly fond of children.

He pushed that concern away for the moment; there would be plenty of time for those worries later, after Severus had had enough time to adjust to just having Remus in his life. As Severus’ house came into view, Remus quickened his pace, and then he mounted the steps and knocked briskly on the door.

It was only a matter of moments before the door opened and Severus appeared, nodding a greeting to them both as he stood back to let them inside.

“Good morning,” Severus murmured as he brushed a kiss to Remus’ cheek, a bold move he had begun making just since Friday.

“Good morning,” Remus replied, smiling widely in pleasure at the kiss. He returned the buss with one of his own and moved past Severus toward the sitting room. “Teddy isn’t sleepy just yet, unfortunately. I think I’ll need to sit with him for a few minutes until he starts to fade. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, I am not in such a rush to get started that I need you in the workroom right away,” Severus replied, trailing along behind him into the sitting room, where he appeared to loiter rather than hurrying off to get to work. “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“That would be great!” Remus smiled at Severus as he dropped the diaper bag on the floor beside one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He was about to sit down, but then he changed his mind and made a sudden decision. “If you’d like, you could take Teddy for a few minutes, and I could make the tea.”

“ _Me_?” Severus stared at him, appearing torn between surprise and apprehension. “Are you certain you want to do that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Remus asked, giving Severus a smile of encouragement. “You’re not going to drop him or eat him or toss him in a potion, right? So why wouldn’t I trust you with him?”

“Because I have no idea what to do with him,” Severus replied, a hint of exasperation tinging his voice. “What if I _do_ drop him? What if he begins screaming?”

“Why don’t you sit down in the chair?” Remus said, indicating Severus’ normal place. “I’ll put him in your arms, and we’ll see what happens. What do you think of that? I’ll take him back immediately if either of you shows evidence of trauma.”

Severus gave him a look of High Dubiousness, but he did as Remus asked and took a seat in his usual chair, not _quite_ appearing prepared to take flight at a moment’s notice. Remus smiled again and carefully lowered Teddy, blanket and all, into Severus’ arms.

Teddy, who was used to being passed back and forth, took this in stride, looking up at Severus with what appeared to be curiosity. Then he blinked, and his eyes slid from blue to black, the golden fuzz on his head darkening as well. Popping his thumb into his mouth, he simply gazed back at them, seeming as content in Severus’ arms as in his father’s.

“See, what did I tell you? He’s holding up all right,” Remus said, putting his hand on Severus’ shoulder. “How about you?”

Severus held Teddy gingerly, as if he was afraid too much pressure would cause the baby to spontaneously break, but his eyes widened slightly when he saw the changes in Teddy’s appearance.

“Does he always do that?” he asked, glancing up at Remus. “Change to look like whoever is holding him, I mean.”

“Only when he likes someone,” Remus replied, squeezing Severus’ shoulder gently. “If you must know, he hated Molly Weasley for some reason, although he adored Fleur and Bill.”

Severus raised one eyebrow at that bit of information, and he seemed rather pleased by it as well, although whether it was because Remus had implied Teddy liked him or because Teddy didn’t like Molly Weasley wasn’t clear. Whatever the case, Severus seemed a little less uncomfortable as he glanced back down at Teddy.

“Well, he isn’t screaming, at least,” he said slowly. “I suppose nothing too disastrous can happen in the time it takes you to make tea.”

“Excellent!” Remus was pleased, both that Teddy seemed to like Severus and that Severus wasn’t screaming in horror at having Teddy in his arms. “I’ll hurry.”

Before Severus could change his mind, Remus made his way to the kitchen and set about making the tea. He didn’t rush, but he did keep an ear cocked, knowing that he’d be able to tell if Teddy began to fuss or Severus seemed too restless. But he heard nothing, and in a bit less than ten minutes, he returned to the sitting room, carrying the tea tray over to the small table between the two chairs.

Glancing over, he noticed that Teddy had drifted off, his hair still dark. “Oh, good, he’s asleep,” he said, pouring the tea into two cups and setting them on the table. “Here, I’ll take him so that you can drink your tea. I’m used to eating, drinking, and doing many other things with only one hand.”

“We are fine,” Severus replied, making no move to hand over Teddy. “I assume you rarely get to enjoy a meal or a drink with both hands, so you may as well take advantage of the situation while you can. I have already had one cup this morning, so I am not desperate for another.”

Remus was surprised by Severus’ words, but he didn’t allow it to show. He also didn’t waste any time taking Severus up on his offer. He sat down, dumped sugar into his tea, then picked up the cup and sipped it gratefully. “You’re right, it’s nice to have both hands free when I’m sitting down. And he can get surprisingly heavy!”

“I can imagine,” Severus murmured, turning his gaze back down to Teddy and appearing to study him with interest. “He doesn’t do much at this age, I take it.”

“Well, that depends on your definition of much,” Remus said ruefully. “When he’s screaming his head off in the middle of the night for no discernible reason, it sure seems like he’s doing more than I can handle. But otherwise, he eats, he sleeps, he makes messes which are small in quantity and yet perversely horrific at time. He stays awake for stretches of up to about two hours now, watching everything going on around him.” Remus smiled fondly at his son. “And when he smiles, it’s as though the whole world gets a bit brighter.”

Severus glanced up at him, and he saw a flash of something - wistfulness, perhaps - on Severus’ face before it disappeared, covered by Severus’ usual stern expression.

“I suppose it is rather nice having a child - family of your own,” he said quietly.

Remus nodded, hoping that he could show Severus the advantages of having a family. “It is... now,” he said with a rueful smile. “I have to admit that I was petrified of becoming a father. When Tonks told me she was pregnant, I nearly had a breakdown. I hadn’t ever been with a woman before, and... Well, it was all wrong. I tried to tell her that for the entire year she was pursuing me, but after Albus’ death... I was weak and tired of fighting, and I gave in. It only took that one night for her to agree that I had been right, that we were all wrong for each other in every possible way, but it was already too late. I had to marry her, and it was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do - to pretend to be happy and accepting of a situation I felt completely trapped in. I know I wasn’t terribly successful, and I’m not proud of the fact that I would have liked nothing better than to run away. What could I give a child? A life with an outcast for a father and parents who knew that they’d really screwed up in creating him?”

He sighed, hoping Severus wasn’t going to think worse of him, but it was too late now, and it was something Severus needed to know. “I didn’t expect to love him, but I couldn’t help it,” he said softly. “I didn’t love Tonks, and she didn’t love me, but at least we could agree on Teddy. I didn’t expect to survive the war, but I knew Tonks would take good care of him. And then it was all over, and I was alive and she was dead. And I find I’m very thankful that I’ll have the opportunity to watch him grow up.”

Severus listened quietly, his expression somber, and he glanced down at Teddy briefly before looking up to meet Remus’ gaze. “Creating life is not a mistake,” he said quietly. “You do have a unique opportunity, and he will not have an outcast for a father. Perhaps you ought to consider whether you want an ex-Death Eater who is also a murderer and is widely considered a traitor being part of his life.”

“I do.” Remus didn’t hesitate to answer, and he reached out, leaning forward and resting his hand on Severus’ knee. “Don’t you remember what I told you about my beliefs that you were the bravest and most honorable man I’ve ever known? You know the truth of what you are, and so do I. I don’t think I could have anyone as part of his life who would be a better influence or example than you are, Severus. Bloody, but unbowed, that’s you. Rising up despite your difficulties and succeeding despite your mistakes. What better role model could Teddy possibly have?”

“You seem more confident that I won’t make a hash of this than I am,” Severus replied with a quiet snort. “My own role models...” He trailed off and shook his head. “Suffice to say, I thought it was just as well that I was both homosexual and undesirable as a significant other since it meant I would not serve in a parental role.” He gazed at Remus with what seemed to be mute appeal. “As I said, I have no idea what to do with him.”

Remus smiled in understanding. “I didn’t either at first, believe me,” he said soothingly, squeezing Severus’ knee. “But it turns out to be fairly simple, for the most part. When he cries, he either wants something or is in some kind of distress. Soiled nappies are pretty straightforward, both in the detection and the remedying. Feeding... he eats about every four hours, as you’ve noticed from our time here - and that includes at night, so I’ve not managed a full night’s sleep since I got out of St. Mungo’s. If he’s cold, that’s easy, too, and sometimes he just wants to be held. But don’t worry that I’m just going to dump him on you with no aid in sight! I just wanted you to know that I trust you with him, and I trust your instincts. The rest can be worked on with time, right?”

“I think so,” Severus murmured, gazing down at Teddy again, and this time, he lifted his hand to brush Teddy’s cheek lightly with his forefinger. Teddy sucked harder on his thumb but didn’t seem to mind the touch; indeed, the baby smiled around his thumb, as though he enjoyed the sensation.

“He definitely likes you,” Remus said, pleased that Teddy was being cooperative. Severus seemed to need the reassurance in the face of his inexperience. “Let me know when you get tired of holding him, and I can take him upstairs and put him in his cradle.”

“Before you do, there is something you should see,” Severus said, glancing back up at Remus, and he gestured to a medium-sized plain bag that sat on the hearth. “That is for you. Or rather, for Teddy, but he isn’t old enough to open presents.”

“Really?” Remus blinked in surprise, then smiled widely. “That was very nice of you, Severus.” He stood and moved to the hearth, picking up the bag and returning to his seat. He opened it eagerly, touched that Severus had gotten something for Teddy. Reaching in, he extracted something soft, and his eyes widened as he saw the blue-green baby blanket within.

 _He_ hadn’t sent this yarn or pattern to Severus, which meant that Severus had come up with it all on his own. He laid the blanket out, seeing the alternating squares of plain stockinette and a small, lacy pattern that looked almost like paw prints. The blanket was light and wonderfully soft to the touch, and Remus felt his throat tighten at the significance of Severus doing something like this for his son.

“Oh, Severus... it’s beautiful,” he said, looking up at Severus with eyes that gleamed with happiness. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t imagine a more wonderful gift for you to give, both to Teddy and to me.” He traced out the small lacy bits in one corner square. “It looks like little wolf paws! How clever of you!”

“It reminded me a little of paw prints too, when I saw the pattern in the book I bought,” Severus admitted gruffly, although he seemed pleased that Remus liked the blanket. “I had to knit a blanket because I haven’t regained enough flexibility in my fingers to manage small needles, so I hope you don’t already have too many.”

“No, and none of them can compare to _this_!” Remus said fervently, and he meant it. Teddy had gotten several presents at birth, but none of them had been hand made. Remus was going to make certain that this blanket would be used and loved and became Teddy’s favorite.

He stood again and leaned over Severus so that he could touch the blanket to Teddy’s cheek. The baby smiled again, seeming to like the softness. “We’ll both treasure it forever,” Remus said, moving slightly so that he could brush his lips over Severus’ in a light kiss of gratitude.

“You really are a ridiculously soppy wolf,” Severus replied, but he returned the kiss, and Remus thought he saw the ghost of a smile cross Severus’ lips fleetingly.

“Absolutely,” Remus agreed, grinning unrepentantly. “Say... why don’t we take Teddy upstairs and tuck him in with his wonderful new blanket? Then I can kiss you in a way that is sloppy rather than soppy.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Severus said, rising to his feet slowly and carefully to avoid jostling the drowsy baby. “That yarn is a cotton blend, by the way,” he added. “Soft and washable. It should hold up well.”

“Definitely!” Remus agreed. He slipped an arm around Severus’ waist, steering him toward the stairs. Then he followed Severus up and into the guest room. “Here, let me put the blanket in first, then I’ll show you how to swaddle him.”

Moving past Severus, he laid the blanket in carefully. “There! Now just put him down with his neck just where I have the fold.”

Severus lowered Teddy into the crib slowly, handling the baby with utmost care, and he placed Teddy where Remus instructed. “Like that?”

“Perfect!” Remus said. “Now watch. You fold one side over like this, then the bottom up to cover his feet. Then you wrap the last side around him and tuck it in. See? Hermione taught me that; she called it a ‘baby burrito’. But infants really like it. It makes them feel secure.”

Severus gave a disdainful snort at the ‘baby burrito’ description, but he watched how Remus created the swaddling with the same intense concentration that he gave to his cauldron.

“I can see why,” he said, nodding. “Perhaps it reminds them of being in the womb.”

“I suspect that’s it,” Remus agreed. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Severus. “Now that Teddy’s all comfortable wrapped in his blanket, why don’t I wrap myself around you?”

Sliding his arms around Remus in return, Severus shifted closer. “Are you trying to make _me_ feel more secure?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Remus didn’t hesitate to reply. He wanted to make Severus feel secure, to make sure Severus knew that Remus would cherish and protect him and stay with him no matter what. He nuzzled Severus’ cheek, his lips close to Severus’ ear. “I’ll do anything you want to make you feel safe and secure with me. Is it working?”

“I believe it is, actually,” Severus murmured, pressing his cheek against Remus’.

Remus’ heart soared. “Good!” He pulled back and looked at Severus, his eyes lingering on the angles of Severus’ face, which were already beloved to him. “So, about that kiss... Do you want to show me what you’ve learned, or shall I teach you something new?”

“Well, I believe it is only fair to show you the results of your lessons,” Severus replied archly. “Isn’t that the reward every good teacher desires?”

“Absolutely!” Remus smiled wickedly and tugged Severus closer. “Reward me.”

Lifting his hands, Severus framed Remus’ face between them and drew him into a kiss that was light at first, but lingering and tender; it was a kiss that spoke more of emotion than passion, although it was clear that Severus was solely focused on Remus, absorbed in the moment.

The depth of Severus’ feelings revealed in his kiss made Remus’ knees go weak and his toes curl inside his shoes. Passion was easy; it relied only on attraction and hormones, and could spring up even when two people didn’t particularly like or respect one another. This, however, was something very, very different. This showed, in the same way Severus’ gift of the blanket had, that Severus was seeking more than just physical satisfaction.

Remus returned the kiss with equal tenderness, wanting to give back to Severus all that Severus was giving to him. His heart swelled, and he pulled back gently, lifting his hand to cup Severus’ cheek. “It might be too soon, but I can’t help it. I love you, Severus. I can’t go another minute without saying it.”

Severus drew back, his dark eyes growing wide, but with surprise, not alarm. “Do you?” he asked, his voice husky and tinged with incredulity. “Really?”

“Yes.” Remus nodded, his eyes meeting Severus’ directly. He wanted Severus to know how he felt, wanted Severus to _believe_ it, and also believe he was worthy of being loved. He smiled. “You’re a Legilimens, and if it will help you believe, I have no problem whatsoever with you using it make sure.”

“No, I don’t need to do that,” Severus replied, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would lie to me, not about something like this.” He glanced down then, not meeting Remus’ gaze as he murmured, “I simply hope it will last.”

“Well, there’s only one that which can prove that,” Remus said, caressing Severus’ cheek gently. “You’ll just have to let me stay around. I’m willing to stay as long as you wish me to. You have my heart, Severus. You always will.”

“You may stay,” Severus whispered as he slid his fingers into Remus’ hair and drew him into another kiss, this one deeper than the first and tinged with something almost like desperation.

Enfolding Severus in a tight embrace, Remus returned the kiss, moaning and parting his lips in invitation. He would give Severus anything at all, anything Severus wanted in order to feel safe and loved.

Severus accepted the silent invitation, claiming and exploring Remus’ mouth with more desire than skill, but all the finesse in the world couldn’t match the way he immersed himself in the kiss, making Remus feel as if there was nothing and no one else in the world at that moment. When he drew back at last, he rested his forehead against Remus’.

“I think we should take the day off from work,” he murmured. “And I think you should take me into the bedroom now.”

Remus felt as though his heart had stopped for a moment, and then it began to beat again, pounding within him. He lifted his head, looking into Severus’ face searchingly, feeling the wolf rising up, eager to do exactly as Severus wished, answering his call.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “I’m yours, Severus. I’ll give you anything you desire.”

“What I desire,” Severus said, lifting his gaze to meet Remus’ at last, “is for you to teach me about passion as you have taught me about love.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Remus replied, and he claimed Severus’ lips again, kissing him deeply, exploring his mouth with eagerness and quickly rising hunger. Then he pulled back, taking Severus’ hands in his. “Why don’t you show me your bedroom? Then I’ll teach you everything I know.”

Severus clasped Remus’ hands tightly and led him to the door. “Right across the corridor,” he said, showing no signs of hesitation or apprehension. “Rest assured, I will be an apt pupil.”

“Of that, I have no doubt at all,” Remus chuckled, feeling almost giddy. Severus wanted him, and Merlin knew he wanted Severus so much it was like an ache within him. He wasted no time in opening the door to Severus’ bedroom and pulling him inside.

He didn’t even bother to glance around, too interested in Severus to care at that moment about anything but him. He was aware of a bed, and he moved over beside it and pulled Severus into his arms again.

“You just have to promise me that if you don’t enjoy something or if it doesn’t feel good, you’ll tell me,” he said. “I want you to be completely comfortable, and I am going to do everything I can to please you, but everyone is different in their likes and dislikes. I want to learn what makes you feel good. And in turn, I’ll show you what I like. All right?”

Severus nodded somberly, as if he was taking the agreement quite seriously indeed. “All right,” he said as he wrapped his arms around Remus in return. “I will tell you if I’m not enjoying myself.”

Remus smiled tenderly, touched by the trust Severus was showing him. “Then let’s find out what you enjoy, shall we?” he asked.

He kissed Severus’ lips, a gentle buss that was meant to tease rather than fulfill. Then he continued, his lips travelling over Severus’ cheek to the line of his jaw. He tightened his arms and pressed his lips against the side of Severus’ neck, nuzzling him and then nipping lightly to see how Severus would feel about the sensation.

Despite the solemnity of his expression, Severus’ body was relaxed, and any apprehension he might have felt wasn’t reflected in the way he leaned against Remus. Severus tilted his chin to offer Remus his neck, the little shiver that Remus felt giving all the confirmation he needed that Severus liked the nuzzling and nipping.

Encouraged by Severus’ response, Remus continued, seeking the places where Severus’ throat was most sensitive. He moved one hand to the front of Severus’ robes, his fingers unfastening the top few buttons of Severus’ robes. He caressed the few inches of exposed skin lightly, then lifted his head, offering Severus a wicked smile. 

“You have no idea how alluring these buttons of yours are,” he murmured. He released another, baring the spot just below the hollow of Severus’ throat. “They’re a challenge, like the wrapping on a particularly intriguing present. I’ve dreamed about doing this, unfastening them slowly, watching as I undo each one, seeing you beginning to lose control, setting your passion free as I bare your body.”

“You have the oddest notions,” Severus replied, although his voice was husky, and he tightened his arms around Remus. “I do wonder if the reality can measure up to your fantasies, however.”

“I have no doubts at all,” Remus replied. He kissed Severus again, nipping at his lower lip gently before soothing it with his tongue. His fingers continued down the row of buttons, until he could push Severus’ robes off of one shoulder. Then he growled softly, the wolf eager to explore Severus’ bare skin, eager to be the first to touch and taste. Lowering his head, Remus trailed his lips over Severus’ collar bone, kissing, nipping, tasting every inch. Severus’ scent was intoxicating, spiciness overlaid with the sweet musk of desire, and Remus wanted to bare Severus completely so that he could wallow against him, drowning himself in it. But he forced himself to go more slowly, wanting to arouse Severus to a fever pitch.

Severus shivered again at the growl, but there was no hint of fear in his scent or the lines of his body, and he flatted his palms against Remus’ back as if he was trying to feel the growl as well as hear it. Remus heard Severus’ breathing hitch and quicken at the series of nips and kisses and felt his skin grow warm with the flush of arousal.

Another few buttons, and Remus bared Severus’ chest on one side. He glanced up at Severus, his smile warm, before he lapped very gently at Severus’ nipple with his tongue. “Do you like that?” he asked. “Some people do, some don’t. I’ll only play with them if you enjoy it.”

Severus gasped at the flick of Remus’ tongue, and he nodded quickly. “Yes,” he said, tightening his fingers on Remus’ back. “I like it.” Then he mustered some of his usual hauteur and added, “You may proceed.”

Remus chuckled at that. The haughty note in Severus’ voice was a delight. He would much rather that Severus have the air of one granting a gift in sharing his body than for Severus to feel self-conscious and doubtful. Remus wanted Severus to feel passionate and free, to feel as though Remus were worshipping his body with all the adulation he deserved.

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied. He laved Severus’ nipple again with one warm, broad swipe of his tongue, then he blew on it gently, watching eagerly as it contracted into a firm nub. Then he slowly drew it between his lips, sucking lightly, waiting to see if Severus enjoyed the stimulation before proceeding further.

Severus sucked in a hissing breath and clutched Remus tightly, beginning to squirm a little, as if he was growing restless with growing need. Remus sucked harder, then gently nipped the swollen nub. Severus’ restless squirming continued, and he arched his back, pushing against Remus demandingly.

Remus continued to torment Severus for a moment, and then he straightened. “Why don’t we get these robes off?” he asked, wanting to see all of Severus. He continued with the buttons, his own rising desire making him clumsier than he would have liked. He couldn’t remember ever desiring anyone as much as he desired Severus, and he finally gave a groan of frustration, the wolf rising up and giving him the strength to rip Severus’ ropes apart, buttons flying everywhere. His eyes feasted on Severus’ pale, bare skin, drinking in the sight, and he licked his lips. “You’re gorgeous, Severus. You wouldn’t believe the things I want to do to you.”

Rather than seeming frightened or overwhelmed by Remus’ display of strength, Severus’ breathing quickened, and there was no mistaking the surge of arousal in his scent. With his gaze fixed on Remus’ face, he removed his shoes and socks, and he shrugged the robes off his narrow shoulders, letting them puddle on the floor. He stood before Remus, wearing nothing but a pair of plain black cotton boxers, but despite his inexperience, he didn’t appear bashful; he stood up straight, almost seeming to bask in the sight of Remus’ approval and desire.

Moving closer, Remus smiled, running a hand down Severus’ chest to the flat plane of his stomach, and then slowly he moved lower, over the cotton boxers, until his palm rested against Severus’ arousal. The evidence of Severus’ desire made Remus’ own arousal spiral higher, and he stroked Severus teasingly through the fabric, keeping himself under control.

“We should probably get into the bed now,” he murmured. “That way you can concentrate on enjoying yourself rather than on standing up.”

“I think that is the prudent thing to do,” Severus agreed, sounding a little breathless, although he made no move away from Remus’ teasing hand toward the bed. He paused, and then he lifted his chin. “You have too many clothes on,” he added boldly.

“So I do,” Remus agreed. He kissed Severus, swift and hard, and then with a smooth, graceful movement, he lifted Severus up into his arms and deposited him gently on the bed. “Let me take care of that.”

With that, Remus stripped his jumper over his head, making a bit of a show of it. He had scars on his body, but he knew he was in good shape. He hadn’t let himself go since the end of the war, and he was never more glad of that than now. He watched Severus’ reactions as he moved his hands to the fastenings of his jeans. “More?” he asked, lifting a brow.

Severus watched Remus’ little show with avid interest, letting his gaze roam freely and licking his lips; a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he reclined against the pillows with the air of a sultan and gestured imperiously. “Yes, more.”

With a heated glance, Remus stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks, and then he straightened once more. He unfastened the button of his jeans, then slowly, slowly slid the zipper down. Slipping his fingers under the waistband of both jeans and boxers, he slid them both down and stepped away from them, standing straight and letting Severus see exactly how aroused he was.

“Do you see what you do to me?” he asked. “I want you so much, I can barely stand it.”

Severus let his gaze stray lower, and his dark eyes widened, but with obvious fascination rather than apprehension, and when he glanced back up at Remus’ face, there was smouldering heat in the depths of his eyes.

“If you want me, then you may have me,” he said, his voice deep and husky with arousal, and he stretched out one hand to Remus, beckoning to him.

“That is an offer I can’t refuse,” Remus answered. He wasted no time climbing into the bed, pouncing atop Severus and pressing him down into the mattress. Capturing Severus’ lips with his, he teasingly rubbed himself against Severus, enough to torment them both but not nearly enough to satisfy.

A soft moan escaped Severus as he wound his arms around Remus and parted his lips, arching up as if seeking to intensify the contact and rubbing against Remus in return without any trace of shyness. 

Remus felt himself swiftly losing his own control, Severus’ movements inflaming him. He plundered Severus’ mouth, his tongue mimicking the thrusting of his hips. Then he moved lower, placing open-mouthed kisses down Severus’ neck and chest. He continued downward, flicking his tongue into the hollow of Severus’ navel, then slipping his fingers under the waist of Severus’ boxers. He slowly eased them down and off, his eyes on the sight of Severus’ arousal.

“So perfect,” he said. Then he looked up Severus’ body, holding Severus’ eyes as he slowly lowered his head and took Severus into the heat of his mouth, wanting to push Severus close to the edge before claiming him.

Severus gasped, and he buried his fingers in Remus’ hair as he let his knees fall open wide. “Dear Merlin...” he groaned, and it wasn’t long at all before Remus could feel the pleasure-tension in his body growing tauter.

Remus didn’t want Severus to lose control yet, so he kept still until he felt Severus easing back from the edge. Then he released Severus with a little lick and crawled up Severus’ body, the wolf rising in his eyes again.

Poised between Severus’ legs and hovering over him, Remus summoned his wand with a wordless spell. Then he tapped Severus’ hip, murmuring the spells that would prepare Severus’ body. Next time, he’d go more slowly, letting Severus experience the pleasure of being readied, but for now, he didn’t think he could hang onto his control long enough. 

“I’m going to take you now,” he growled, running his nose along the line of Severus’ throat, scenting him. “The wolf and I are going to make you ours.”

Severus threw back his head and offered his throat in clear surrender, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Remus’ shoulders. “Yes... yes, make me yours,” he said, the words coming out as more than half a moan. “I want that...”

Severus’ gesture called the wolf forth completely, speaking to it in its own language, and Remus didn’t try to resist. “Mine!” he growled, biting down on the tender skin of Severus’ throat. His hands were on Severus’ hips, lifting him and holding him in place as he moved forward, claiming Severus’ body in one smooth, powerful thrust.

Severus cried out as he clenched his fingers on Remus’ back, and he rocked his hips up as if wanting to send Remus even deeper. “More,” he whispered. “Give me everything.”

Raising his head, Remus looked down into Severus’ face. “So perfect,” he said, reveling in the sensation of Severus, tight and hot around him, and in Severus’ quiet demand. He wanted to give Severus everything; his heart, his soul, everything that he had was Severus’ for the taking. He moved one hand between their bodies, curling it around Severus’ arousal, and then he began to move.

He started out slowly, breathing between each demanding thrust, stroking Severus in counterpoint. But the demands of his own body made him speed up, and he was breathing hard as he claimed Severus, his eyes locked on Severus’ face, avidly watching his every expression. Relentlessly he drove Severus toward the edge, wanting to see the moment when Severus went wild, when he lost all his careful control in a blaze of passion.

With each thrust, Severus’ armor cracked more and more until it fell away, leaving Severus open and vulnerable beneath Remus, letting Remus see his face softened with pleasure and his dark eyes alight with need, the heat blazing in their depths kindled by Remus alone - and meant for him alone. Severus rocked his hips, his movements fueled more by enthusiasm than finesse, but there was no mistaking that he wanted to take Remus harder and deeper within him, wanted to feel their joining as intensely as Remus did. Soft moans escalated to groans and cries and finally to a wild, unrestrained shout as Severus quivered on the edge of release - and fell at last, holding back nothing of his pleasure as he came undone beneath Remus.

Breathless with wonder, Remus watched Severus as he shattered. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life, and the most humbling. Severus had given him this, had trusted him enough to let Remus in, to give Remus the gift of his passion. It was more than Remus could take, the connection he felt to Severus, the bond he’d ever felt with any other lover. With a groan, he thrust again and again, unable to hold back, until he, too, flew over the edge, a cry ripped from his throat.

Panting, Remus slowly melted down, rolling to one side and pulling Severus into his arms. He couldn’t speak for a moment; all he could do was feel his heart hammering in his chest and the sated contentment that infused his limbs, leaving him boneless in the aftermath.

Severus went willingly into Remus’ embrace, although Remus suspected he would deny that he was actually cuddling up against Remus if asked. He draped one arm across Remus’ waist and settled in, seeming content to remain where he was.

Summoning his wand again, Remus cleaned them both up with a charm and then tossed his wand aside in favor of winding himself around Severus, holding him close and tight. He turned his head, pressing his lips to Severus’ temple. 

“That was incredible,” he murmured, running a hand down Severus’ damp back. “ _You_ are incredible.”

That brought a rather self-satisfied look to Severus’ face, belying the casualness in his voice as he replied, “It was rather nice at that.”

Remus chuckled, patting Severus’ hip affectionately. “Such high praise,” he said. “I wonder what I’ll have to do to earn a higher mark from you, Professor Snape.”

“I suggest lots of practice,” Severus replied loftily. “That is the only sure way to improve anything.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, his lips twitching as he tried to hold back a grin. “When will we find time to work on the salve, then? Because I can’t promise that once I get you into this bed, I can be persuaded to let you out again.”

“Perhaps we will need to devise a schedule in which I allow you to take me to bed after a certain amount of time working on the salve,” Severus said. He paused, and then he added, “It won’t necessarily be a _long_ amount of time.”

That did make Remus grin, and he nuzzled Severus affectionately. “That sounds like a good plan,” he said. “Assuming we have Teddy’s cooperation.” He pulled back and looked at Severus, his expression too innocent to be innocent. “What happens when I teach you all I know? Will you still keep me around to work on potions for you?”

“I suppose I will.” Severus lifted his hand and cupped Remus’ cheek in his palm, his expression turning serious. “I seem to have grown accustomed to your presence.”

“I hope you don’t mind that.” Remus was equally serious. “I love you, Severus, but I know it might take some time for you to trust me completely. I don’t want you to feel pressured or rushed.”

Severus ducked his head and burrowed against Remus to hide his face. “If I did not trust you already,” he said, his voice muffled, “I would not be here right now.”

“Thank you for that,” Remus said, tightening his arms around Severus, touched by the admission. “And thank you for giving me the honor of making love to you.”

There was a moment of silence, and Severus didn’t emerge from his burrowing, but he tightened his arm around Remus even as he let out a “hmph!” Then Remus felt something that might have been a fleeting kiss against his neck.

That made Remus feel decidedly melty and soppy, but he didn’t say so, only caressing Severus again and sighing in contentment. “Mmmm... this feels good,” he murmured. “What do you say to a little rest before Teddy wakes up? Perhaps by then, I could be persuaded to let you out of the bed.”

“That sounds acceptable,” Severus replied, and he wasted no time in drawing up the covers with a wandless charm and settling in comfortably. “I did say we ought to take the entire day off, after all.”

“So you did. Which proves how brilliant you are,” Remus replied. He pressed his lips to Severus’ temple again, then relaxed back, letting the warmth and contentment take over and lull him into drowsiness. He could feel Severus’ breath against his skin, hear the beating of Severus’ heart, and it was like music to his heart. A smile curved his lips, and it stayed there as he drifted off to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

It took Severus a while to figure out he was happy. The feeling of contentment combined with a lightness of spirit with no trace of dread or reservation was so new and foreign to him that he didn’t recognize it for what it was at first, not until he realized he was feeling optimistic about life and about his future for the first time in longer than he could remember. He had been content before, but never fully at peace, much less unreservedly happy. He distinctly remembered his childhood happiness always being tinged by a nagging dread, his father’s returning home each day casting a pall over anything good that might happen.

But now it seemed he was happy without reservation for the first time in his life, and he didn’t know what to do about it, and so he decided to knit. He went to the yarn shop and bought a rich ivory yarn that was a bulky-weight blend of silk, alpaca, and merino wool - one of the softest he’d ever touched. The color, he thought, would go with anything, and besides, Remus probably still had that thin, tatty scarf that was fit for nothing but the bin.

He selected a pattern called [seaman’s scarf](http://www.knitpicks.com/patterns/Seamans_Scarf_Pattern__D50545220.htm) that had three thick cables and a moss stitch border, and he cast on as soon as he got home. Remus had taken the morning off to take Teddy for a routine check-up, but he’d said he would stop by after lunch to see if Severus needed anything - with emphasis on the “anything” - and Severus hoped to have a large enough swatch to show off by the time he arrived.

True to his word, Remus arrived at one o’clock. He didn’t have Teddy with him, which was a surprise, and even more so was the oddly-shaped brown box with a handle that he carried instead. Remus smiled a trifle pensively.

“I left Teddy with Andromeda for the afternoon,” he explained, then hasted to add, “Everything went fine at the Healer’s, no worries there. I just thought we could have some time without having to keep one ear open.”

Severus put aside the scarf and rose to greet Remus, feeling bold enough to kiss Remus simply because he knew he could.

“That sounds promising,” he said, glancing at the box curiously. Perhaps Remus wanted to go on a picnic? “What did you have in mind?”

Remus returned the kiss, then gave Severus a look rather like that of a naughty little boy who’d been caught with his hand on the cookie jar. “I have an admission and a request to make,” he said, then motioned towards the chairs. “Shall we have a seat? This is going to take a few minutes.”

Severus felt a little surge of apprehension at that, but he covered it by raising one eyebrow and giving Remus a level stare.

“Very well,” he said, moving to his usual chair at last, and when he was seated, he gestured impatiently. “What is this all about?”

Remus blinked, obviously surprised by Severus’ tone, and the pensive look returned to his face. But he sat down, placing the box between them, and when he drew in a deep breath, he seemed to relax slightly. “I was going to build up to this gradually, giving the explanation first, but I can see I shouldn’t leave you in suspense,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. He pointed to the box. “Go ahead, open it.”

Severus was glad that Remus didn’t plan to draw this, whatever it was out, but he was still a little dubious - and a little worried. He hoped this wasn’t some sort of good-bye present, but curiosity won out, and he leaned forward and opened the box.

The lid of the box separated, revealing compartments which were neatly filled with an array of knitting supplies - needles, markers, cable needles, stitch holders - all in a variety of sizes and shapes, a very large collection that must have cost a great deal of money. But it was the  
lower part of the box, which was obviously bigger on the inside that the outside, which held the real treasure. Yarn, in all thicknesses and colors, a veritable rainbow of fibers, all of which seemed to be of very high quality.

“It was my mother’s,” Remus said softly.

Severus tore his gaze away from the box, which any knitter would gladly give a body part or two to possess (as long as it wasn’t one of their hands or eyes), and glanced up at Remus in stunned amazement.

“This is an incredible collection,” he said. “The box itself would be any knitter’s dream, but what’s inside...” He trailed off and looked down at the yarn and needles and all the rest, fairly itching to dive in and catalogue everything in there.

“She knitted from the time she was a little girl,” Remus explained. “My grandmother taught her, and the box was a present on her eighteenth birthday. Then when Grandmother died, Mum inherited all of her knitting things and added to the collection over the years. I remember my father giving her gifts of yarn on her birthday and for Christmas. There was very little that delighted her more than receiving yarn, unless it was using it to make presents for everyone.” He paused. “I want you to have it, Severus. She tried to teach me to knit, and I just wasn’t any good at it, but I really think she would have liked you. And since I loved her, and I love you... I want you have it to carry on that legacy.”

Stunned into silence, Severus didn’t know what to say in response to being given such a gift. For one thing, he doubted he would ever need to buy any needles or accessories ever again, and it appeared he would have a magnificent stash to work with. For another, he understood the significance of the gift; in offering him something so personal, something that rightly belonged in Remus’ family, Remus was also offering him the gift of permanence and belonging, which he was willing to accept whole-heartedly.

“Thank you doesn’t seem quite adequate,” he said at last, at a loss for any other suitable words. He had never been adept with the language of the gentler emotions; he had mastered the language of anger, scorn, and hatred at a young age, but love and gratitude eluded him, and so he did the only thing he knew to do to explain. Snatching up his needles, he held out the swatch of scarf. “This is for you,” he said brusquely. “Well, not _now_ , but when it is finished.”

Remus smiled, seeming to understand what Severus couldn’t say. He leaned forward, lifting his hand to trace out the cables tenderly with a finger. Then he closed his fingers over Severus’, squeezing gently. 

“Thank you, Severus. I can tell it’s going to be very warm, and it’s already beautiful. And the yarn is so soft.” Remus smiled, then flushed slightly. “Well, the request I was going to make was for you to accept the box. Now, however, I have to make an admission. I hope you won’t be upset with me, but... um. You received a few deliveries of yarn and patterns not long ago, right? I have to confess that I overheard what your Healer said in St. Mungo’s that day we met again. And... well, I sent them.” Remus suddenly looked anxious. “I hope you don’t mind? I just wanted you to know the truth.”

Severus was once again stunned into silence as he tried to make sense of that. “But why?” he asked, frowning with growing confusion. “If you had done such a thing _now_ , I would understand it, but then we were not even friends.”

“No, but...” Remus sighed and gave a slight shrug. “It seemed like the right thing to do. You had helped me by making the Wolfsbane potion, and it appeared that you needed something. I had it, and I wasn’t using it, so I decided to send some to you. I didn’t put my name on it because I wasn’t certain if you would accept it from me, but I very much wanted you to have it.”

Severus had to admit to himself, if not to Remus, that he probably would have sent it back if Remus had put his name on the parcel; pride would not have allowed him to accept anything that hinted at charity, especially not from Remus.

“But what happened between us,” he said slowly, as the thought that perhaps their relationship wasn’t what he thought it was bloomed, unwelcome, in his mind, “that was not some misguided notion of Gryffindor nobility, was it?”

Remus’ eyes widened. “Dear Merlin, no!” he denied emphatically. “I sent you _yarn_ out of gratitude, Severus. I am noble enough, I suppose, to recognize that you didn’t have to make the potion for me and that you weren’t really at fault in Albus’ death, but... do you really think I’d bind my life and my son’s to yours so intimately out of some feeling of obligation?” He shook his head, his expression somber. “No. What happened between us happened because I fell in love with you.”

Severus nodded slightly and relaxed. Put that way, he supposed it didn’t make much sense to think Remus would become so intimate with him out of obligation or gratitude, but he was still getting used to the idea that someone - anyone - would find him likable, much less worthy of loving.

“I was planning to give up that day,” he said at last, his voice quiet and somber. “I could not afford the wood needles, and the metal needles were too slippery, especially for _my_ hands. I was not even certain it would work at all, much less well enough to invest money I could not afford to lose into the effort. When the first parcel arrived, it gave me incentive to try again. At that time, I could bend my fingers only a little, and if I tried, it was painful. I had difficulty picking up and holding certain objects, and I could not even make a fist. But this is what your gift has brought about.”

With that, he held up his hands and curled his fingers into loose fists. It was the best he could do even now, but it was vast improvement over where he had been three months ago.

Remus’ smile was one of quiet joy. “I’m glad for you, and I’m glad I could help in whatever small way,” he said. Reaching out, he covered Severus’ hands with his own. “I’ll do anything I can to help you regain what you’ve lost. I never want you to give up on yourself, not for any reason. You deserve the best, Severus, and I want to make certain you receive it - even from yourself.”

Severus uncurled his fingers and wrapped them around Remus’. “As far as I’m concerned, I already have.”

“Now, how can I resist you when you say things like that?” Remus asked, a feral gleam in his eyes. He rose to his feet, urging Severus up as well. “I think I’m going to have to reward you. Shall we go to the bedroom? Then I can show you just how much I adore you.”

“Very well,” Severus replied as he let Remus draw him to his feet, and he fixed Remus with a stern look. “But don’t grow too accustomed to hearing such things. I have used up my soppiness allotment for at least the next few months.”

Remus laughed, pulling Severus close. “I don’t mind not hearing the words, so long as you show me how you feel,” he replied, running a hand down Severus’ back to squeeze his arse. “Or knit me something. Maybe we can have our own saying, hmm? A scarf is worth a thousand words?”

“I like that,” Severus replied in all seriousness as he wrapped his arms around Remus and pressed close. It would be far easier for him to show how he felt than to say it, and with the stash he had glimpsed in the knitting box, he wouldn’t run out of ways to say ‘I love you’ for quite some time.

-end-


End file.
